Drive, a haiku sonnet





There is a robin 
singing in a tree somewhere,
telling the world he

is looking for a 
mate. A robin sings in a 
tree somewhere, telling 

the world he has found 
a mate. The tree somewhere is 
a tulip in the 

neighbor's front yard. Spring 
has come. We drive by the same 
people, sleeping in

bags on the sidewalk, waiting 
for the world to warm.










(Been a little minute since I wrote one of these...)

Around

(NaPoWriMo, Day 8)



I awake to the sound 
of more sirens—
firetruck and ambulance 
this time—the weather has calmed,
the city has not--and visions 
of spinach artichoke dip 
spreading on multi-grain bread 
with round, browned 
and caramelized slices 
of oven dried tomato--
red on green and 
green and white
on brown.