why rake trees?



withered leaves on wind

when life-giving flow dries up

let thoughtless words go



Response to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai’s prompt on “withered leaves” and John Piper’s devotional, Words for the Wind.

spoiler alert

A quadrille of 44 words for dVerse poetics…


Dad took us to stock car races,
figure 8’s, Indy racetrack tour:
our family waiting at famous light
tower for bus driver to announce,
“Gentlemen, start your engines!”

Mom was relieved my brother
didn’t put spoiler on first car or
choose Nascar driving career.


write time to renga

A challenge to write Renga With Richard Wright: given six haiku, choose your own line-up and add your two-lined stanzas. (Richard’s original haiku in regular type, italic lines are my response stanzas.)


Make up your mind, Snail!
You are half inside your house,
And halfway out!

indecisive character
slugs reluctantly forward

I am nobody:
A red sinking autumn sun
Took my name away.

identity lost in awe
of sky’s changing expanse

Keep straight down this block,
Then turn right where you will find
A peach tree blooming.

remember, somewhere is spring;
hope’s sweet promises renew

One magnolia
Landed upon another
In the dew-wet grass.

end of summer, last blossoms
reveal time’s passing beauty

All right, You Sparrows;
The sun has set and you can now
Stop your chattering!

settle, winter is coming;
seasons advance through harvest

You moths must leave now;
I am turning out the light
And going to sleep.

body desires peaceful rest;
premonition of death’s kiss


© Richard WrightThis+Other+World+by+Richard+Wright

© lynn

seasoned habitat

A “fusion” haiku for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai‘s Crossroads Challenge…


a strange flower
for birds and butterflies
the autumn sky

© Basho

the pheasant cries
as if it just noticed
the mountain

© Issa


autumn on mountain

butterflies and flowers gone

pheasant’s golden cry


© lynn




pixabay free image

rural commute

Late to join the “journey” prompt at dVerse this week…thanks to our host, Sarah!


living rural still
requires frequent
road trips to town…
for needed groceries,
machinery parts,
or church events.

carefully back out of
narrow garage door
and swing out in arc
avoiding any randomly
parked ATVs, pickup or
farm machinery on yard

past garden and cattle
white-fenced driveway
turn on gravel road until
first crossroad where
choice is made: which
route to which town?

on a blacktop, pass
farms and acreages
of neighbors we know
signs of seasons and
progression of crops
odors of hog barns

past research farms
or busy cheese factory
slow down for yellow
school bus, red tractor
on road, wait at corner
for chromed semi-trucks

when “early” is a verb


when cows are mooing, hungry for hay

early me, early me, early the day

when love comes calling, sweetly we lay

early me, early me, early the day

when Spirit is whispering urge to pray

early me, early me, early the day

when open road beckons to journey away

early me, early me, early the day!


farmer’s dawn


awake before sun

constellations blinking bright

cows’ hungry eyes shine















Watching grand daughters and trying out NEW editor app on phone.   Thanks, WordPress 🤓  …does anyone have a “grandma” app?!

climate change


Ramblings of a Writer of a Writer poetry prompt using: climate/energy


sleep deprivation

changes climate of the mind

struggle to focus

crave sugar or caffeine boost

body lags for energy



voice of northern lights

Folk music of Iceland featured at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai



undulating waves

over tundra, glacial stone

land of fire and ice






calligraphy serifs

Chèvre at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai challenges us to write “fusion troiku”: combine two classic haiku into one, then use for first lines of haiku series of three…


before the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate
a moment


calligraphy of geese
against the sky—
the moon seals it


© Yosa Buson  (Tr. Robert Hass)




scent of cut blossom —

moon, like white chrysanthemum,

pale against dark sky

© lynn__


scent of cut blossoms

wafts delicate from altar

…fresh bridal bouquet


moon, like a white mum,

blooms full at summer solstice;

signs written in spheres


pale against dark sky

—revelations’ seven seals—

groom rides on white horse




who has ears to hear…


Hell may

assault ears with

unearthly shrieks of

self-condemned rebels

tortured by vicious demons,

an infernal crackling

of eternal fire,

but worse yet

will be the

echoing miseries of sin,

utter absence of love,

awful silence of God.

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