Poquito Oso

Smallest of the litter,

I didn’t want him at first,

my eyes on his bigger sister,

but he won us over with his determined fight

as he pushed to get to the food bowl,

trying to make his way through

the mass of other wiggling puppies.

His color was unusual,

a soft gray, or a “blue”,

and his fur a little softer and longer,

so in the end,

we happily went home with him.

As a puppy,

his tiny little body was small enough

to fit in the pocket of a shirt,

and he did handstands at the food bowl

because he was to short to otherwise reach inside.

What he lacked in stature

he certainly made up for in doggy charm and charisma.

He saw a few of our other dogs come and go,

but always in his mind,

he was the king of the house.

He reached a maximum weight of seven or so pounds,

but it was the loudest seven pounds you’d ever seen,

all heart and personality.

Our little blue boy was always there to greet us when we came home,

and he wanted to be wherever we were in the house.

He loved car rides,

and the drive thru windows were his favorite,

he loved to show off and get attention,

but I’m pretty sure the treats he got were what he enjoyed the most.

But, no matter how big his heart,

and how strong his soul,

even he couldn’t escape the inevitable.

My heart still breaks

thinking about how much I miss his furry face.

There’s an empty hole in our lives

and in our bed

where he used to be,

but he
will never be forgotten.

His little pawprints

have left their tracks across our hearts

and will never be erased.

Fall, the Favorite

Leaves sweep down from trees,

covering the ground below,

creating piles of mingled colors.

Oranges, browns, and red

become a beautiful palette

for the beginning of Fall’s artistry.

Shortened days give way

to crisp, cooler air,

making jackets and sweaters

come out from closets.

Coffee, cider, and any hot drink

is welcome,

as cozying up with a blanket

becomes the best part of the evening.

Bonfires, hayrides, fire pits, and spooky season

make me want to cheer.

I’ve waited so long for summer to pass,

but now my favorite time of year

is finally here!

Scaredy Cat

Why do I always do this to myself?

Scary movie onscreen,

my pick for the evening,

but I’m the one hiding my face

and closing my eyes.

Most of the time it isn’t the images that bother me,

but the noise.

Surely some of that is exaggerated,

but still,

the sounds of gore give me goosebumps

more than anything.

I am always a sucker for a good thriller,

but again I ask –

why do I always do this to myself?

I’m a scaredy cat who loves to be scared.


Clouds up above move

perfectly in the right way

sun dips down below


Each part of nature

creates a beautiful scene –

fire in the sky

Summer Dream

Soft breeze plays gently with my hair.

I close my eyes and imagine your hands

brushing through the strands.

The rustling of leaves in the wind whisper faintly,

a reminder of your low melodic voice in my ear,

breath tickling my neck.

The sun behind me warms my back,

embracing it with sweet gentle heat,

much like your arm resting easily in the same spot.

But a bright summer day can never compare

to the real you,

to your light,

or your touch,

to a dream no longer there.


Cannot begin a day without it

Offers me comfort and caffeine

Fills me with energy to get up and go

First cup must be down before speaking (or can be spoken to)

Every sip warms my soul and chases sleepiness away

Each morning is a cupful (or two) of delight

Message in a Bottle

The sun alights the horizon

as waves crash onto shore,

throwing their wet blanket onto the sand,

and then pulling it away again.

Each time the water recedes,

a small bottle is revealed,

tossed and jostled in the chaos

until it finally is left behind

as the tide fades back to sea.

The tiny vessel now lies still,

its glass glistening as the day brightens.

A small piece of paper within

hides its secret,

folded so the written words cannot be seen.

The dreams of its owner

are penned in ink

and pinned on the hope

that a curious passerby

will take the time to read what’s inside.


Renewing Old Oak Tree (a triple haiku)

Twisted and knotted,

standing tall against the sky,

reaching toward the light.


Age paints its signs on

the gnarled canvas of branches,

time’s silent witness.


Despite years gone by,

green leaves bud and bloom each spring,

bringing youth again.

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