Frog

I wonder if that frog thinks the world is just a fevered dream inside his pond… – or does his mirror reflect, in green- translucent shine, the way creation always meant to be?

Seasons: Four Haiku

Creaking with the cold: groaning, sugar-sprinkled pond. Highway for a squirrel. – Plunks of sky break glass. Tiny ringlets: small, then large. Spirals in a pond. – Water flees away! Restless waves reverberate. The tire swing sways. – Whirling with the wind, ghostly whisks of red and brown mirrored in the glass – – – […]