Sarah hosts “ekphrastic” poetry (inspired by visual art) at dVerse Poets!


on steep
bike path
trying to
avoid fallen
acorns and
slick goose
which may
skid tires
and flip a
rider over
into cool
water and
scum of
may also
turtles or
buried in






grandma’s bait shop


it’s a sunny-side up


Pixabay image

happy-spatula kind of day


outgoing fish boats bob:

“goodbye, dear old pier”


children find glinty pebbles

to hopscotch village street


under random puffs of

gourmet popcorn clouds


reflection of blue-er sky,

grandma’s retro/deco bike


blooms petunia pink

beside faded stucco cottage


outback/inside pickety fence

she digs in earthworm garden


boy swings dilapidation’s gate;

hook-line fresh on bamboo pole



Linking cheer at dVerse Poets pub today…

cicada song

Posting this haibun for dVerse Poets as we bid a long goodbye to sweet summertime.  Toni is hosting with an emphasis on “komorebi”, a Japanese word for the light that filters between trees…enjoy!


Our firstborn son’s house sits on a hill with a woodsy backyard and inviting patio where we celebrated mother’s day last spring. Now we embark on a final summer bike ride before our oldest grandchild starts school. It requires a little time and patience to find everyone’s helmet and shoes before hitching up the toddler carrier and deciding our route. To avoid riding on the busy narrow street, I and the two boys take a shortcut over grassy properties between shrubbery to meet grandpa and dad near the bike path.

My middle grandson points the way to “our lake” and we head down the steep path, gaining speed and testing brakes alternately. After a couple curves, the lake is in view below us. Wildflowers border the smooth concrete which ends at a dirt trail leading into the trees. Some tri-leaf plants look suspiciously like poison ivy so I google it while waiting with grandson for the other riders to catch up. His helmet is too loose and flops sideways again so I tighten the straps.

It’s gratifying to watch our son with his children at the lakeside park as he explores with them. We notice frogs of various sizes in the mud and a painted turtle on a submerged branch. My husband sits at lone picnic table with granddaughter as I try to keep up with the boys while maintaining a safe distance from a cattail swamp.

The sun plays hide and seek with puffy clouds above us and something, perhaps a fish, jumps as evidenced by the concentric rings expanding outward across the quiet water. The water too is partly cloudy, with some algael growth around its edges and a muddy bottom that gets stirred up by slightest movement of crawdad or minnow. A painted-lady butterfly flits from late dandelion head to wild morning glory bloom.


loud strumming in tree


photo by lynn

camouflaged musician of

summer’s symphony

sidewalks of childhood


When i was a child i

lived on city sidewalks;

not literally, of course.

we had a pleasant home

with generous backyard;

but i learned to bike,

play jacks, hopscotch,

and roller-skate

with neighbor kids

on paved pathways.


Sidewalks’ cracked

upheaval just adds

to the adventure…you

must avoid the bumps!

Life lesson learned:

concrete is painfully

unforgiving to bare

knees and elbows

when crash landing

brother’s bike off ramp.


The sidewalk was

a way of opportunity:

waiting at school bus stop,

biking to friend’s house,

riding to corner drugstore

to spend quarter on candy;

walking dog to nearby park,

running for grocery item

or reporting to babysitter

duties around our block.


Sometimes the

city sidewalk scene

turned threatening:

dark shaded, vacant

vine covered manse;

suspicious stranger

beckoning from car

parked in narrow alley,

or snarling doberman

chasing flying pedals.


Our fenced lawn

was a refuge;  our

apple tree, an oasis

in a maze of sidewalks,

brick walls, city streets.

i’m happy for my childhood;

and grateful my own children

live on land rurally graced

with open skies and space

for green, growing things.