the tomato plant

shares its perfume, distilled from

rain- wet earth and sun

stuck behind tractor

I open the car window

the smell of fresh peas!

the bent flower stem

springs back as the bee bumbles

off to the next one

the vanishing point:

where flat bottomed clouds meet the

rising fields of wheat

scars on the pavement

trace the cables and pipes that

lie tangled below

the sun's zenith stops

its daily noontime climb, turns,

heads down to winter

haiku: nature seen

and said simply. I fight the

urge to explain. Why?

after the hot night

the welcome breeze brushing past

the bedroom curtains

waking with the dawn

I, like the green earth, have been

refreshed by the dew

throwing a new log

on the red embers... waiting...

when will the flames come