Friday, October 15, 2021

wrecked - haiku

gargoyle lays broken

upon stones with displaced wing

his spell has faded

Friday, October 08, 2021

the Watcher


 the watcher

the lonesome dove

perched high above

awaiting his seat

at the feast

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

harvest moon - haiku

glowing in twilight,

tree frogs and crickets chorus,

heralds harvest moon

Friday, August 27, 2021

evening feast - haiku

bird feeder topped up

flock of nuthatches descends

for evening feast

squirrels hang in a row

upside down and right side up

for evening feast

sparrows flutter in

weaving their way through the growth

for evening feast

sharp call of blue jays

invites their kin of cardinals

for evening feast

twilight in the east

causes life to seek their nests

evening feast ends...

Saturday, August 14, 2021


 air is clear and cool

as I relax at the Pond

twinkle lights strung along posts

emanate golden glow casting shadows

golden nectar chills in the goblet

while my body relaxes upon wicker

tis a night of wonderful dreams

of fae, frogs and toads, and squirrels

the chaise draws me in, calling me,

come rest awhile golden lass

the quarter moon shining brightly

will lull you asleep, I abide

Saturday, August 07, 2021

Every home needs a colourful welcome



 A few days off from being everything

and being so important to smooth running.

I informed the owner I won’t return

until my own mental health heals.

Phone has been silent ever since.

Friday, July 30, 2021


 I come home after a ten hour work day,

change and head to the Pond.

The air is refreshingly clear and

a cool wind blows chimes to tease me to sing.

I’m not relaxing for fifteen minutes

when the symphony of mowers begins.

The retiree J across the street hauls out

his “silent” mower and is soon joined by his neighbour C

who inherited his riding mower that is heard

for three blocks away. He grins knowing the previous

owner ran it for two hours EVERY FRYDAY afternoon.

Next up is my own neighbour. We’ve chatted

explaining my preference to silence after a work week,

but in one ear and out the other. At least she is quick,

not retired and doesn’t dilly dally.

There is a pause and silence descends.

O what a fool am I when the chainsaw begins.

Not one block away and an idiot who

just has to give it a one more go.

I seek the sanctuary of my chesterfield.

Three hours later and the hood is silent.

Not an engine or tinker toy is revving.

There is peace and o such quietness

and I’m relaxing in silence, well almost

as squirrels have descended into the bird feeder

the squabbling has begun and I ~ sigh ~.

Wait! Tis now 8 pm and yet ANOTHER retiree

decides he needs to join his neighbours in creating

another perfect lawn for the weekend

just in case there are visitors.

I ~ sigh ~ and wonder why on a FRYday.

Friday, July 23, 2021

finches - haiku


familiar chortle

in trees as yellow finches

fly in for a feast

Friday, July 09, 2021

rip - haiku

 fireflies awake

lighting his souls final bed

rest in peace dear friend

Friday, June 25, 2021


midnight prowling,

patio door is opened wide

and I stand scanning the garden,

a blink, another blink, and yet another.

I gasp, and giggle,

you have found me!”

says I to the night air filled with lights.

Thank you for renewing life,

I whisper,

as they fly blinking sky wards

Saturday, June 19, 2021

Serenity in the garden


There is such serenity

in the garden this night,

the Ponds surface shimmers

in the evening breeze

while hyacinths and lettuces

float among the orbs.

The only man made sound

is Bach’s Cello Suites

emanating from speakers

out into the garden

where I sit and savour

sights and sounds.

Robinnettes have recently

left their nests

chortle from the garden,

calling to their parents

for substance

while both know they are safe.

Soon, sparrows and chickadee’s

fly in and sing their songs.

Were they drawn in by the cello?

Or the serenity?

I will never know and it doesn’t matter

for I am enraptured with their song.

The wicker chaise

calls me name, come lay with me,

let me arms wrap around you

and keep you safe while you dream.

The invitation is enticing...

Saturday, June 12, 2021

Collecting In your face colour


I am a collector, a collector of colour.

While my garden is a serenity of greens, yellows and whites

the patio is, how shall I write, an in your face of colour.

Saturday, June 05, 2021

Robins nursery


I must be living a good life and one with nature.

Last year there were three nests with mums’ nestled in.

One was vacated after a hawks visit. A bold one it was.

The mum left never to return after the attack.

This year there has been one successful brood of two babes

who are thriving in the garden, and they are huge!

Rick and Roll bathe daily in the Pond, each taking their time.

I am quite happy with their growth.

Rick and Roll sprung from the nest over the drive side door.

After they left, another mum redecorated the nest to her liking.

Presently there are two babes, again, sheltered, loved,

and now daily screaming “feed me” “feed me”.

I tried to banish nesting on the column at the main entrance

but she worked over night and within 12 hours her home was woven.

What could I do after her energy spent building her nest?

Ruth and Rupert are now proud parents of two babes.

I warned both that this was my home so deal with my living here

and I will be entering and exiting this doorway at all hours.

That hasn’t worked out so well as both parents are a tad protective,

dive bombing and loudly chirping their warning when I’m near.

To date there was one successful brood and two more on their way.

Last year there were four broods out of two nests. Not bad at all.

Mind you the weather was more agreeable and they all survived

without late snow blizzard and freezing temperatures.

Nature does sing its own tune and I happily sing along.

Friday, June 04, 2021

catkins - haiku


leaves release in warmth

catkins feel movement of life

she purrs to the leaf

Friday, May 28, 2021

lilacs - haiku

sweet scented lilacs

reach over the garden gate,

soon petals will fade

Monday, May 10, 2021



my beautiful stones

created by earths movements

over untold centuries

smoothed by rivers flow

by rivers flow

and tides washing in, washing out

gently smoothing the raggedness

creating jewels, a pleasure to the touch

to the touch

one feels the energy of creation

amethysts of divine colour

buried in the cliffs of my county

of my county

specks of gold in iron deposits

hidden in outcroppings

beyond everyday reach of human

reach of human

or without reach of my hands

citrine, lemon coloured ice crystals

woven into bracelets for a dear friend

a dear friend

chose her stones of jade, leopard jasper

and earthly variations of local agates,

earth colours befitting her soul

befitting her soul

my stone is moss agate

the name alone suits me

I wear the stones knowing...

Saturday, May 08, 2021

a blue wakening


 leaves pulled away from wakening leaves

allow stems of brilliant green to emerge,

once the sun and its warmth tickles the bulb

blue blossoms reach for the sun.

petals unwrap themselves and spreading open

reveal the glorious goldness of life.

Friday, May 07, 2021

purple - haiku

 carpet of purple,

heritage garden violets

weaves their spring colour

Saturday, May 01, 2021

Aprils final day - haiku

 Aprils final day

sunshine replaced snow

showers, earth revived

Friday, April 30, 2021

Delay of Spring


Tis Fryday, the end of a brutal work week

and I’m nestled in the den surrounded by books, art and music.

Around the Block sings from the stereo; indie artists taking my breath away.

Its been raining for days, which is most welcomed as soil is very dry,

a silent thank you to the heavens for this life giving moisture.

With rain cooler temps arrive that cause the garden to halt its growth.

I survey the garden and see it being covered in a blanket of white.

No No No, this is not right, this is not Spring.

The twolips, having disappeared from existence for years,

finally made their appearance this spring.

Now they are being held hostage to the elements.

The lone Red Poll has landed in the bird feeder,

pecking at what is left after the Ravens feast.

Robin feeding her brood cuddles them into herself

anxiously living out the storm. Will they survive this temp?

Scillia’s, daffiies, lillies and yew are bound down

under the weight of white shite, Will they rebound?

I sigh remembering the garden just this morn was a carpet of green

now lays cloaked in white velvet.

Damn you old man Winter! Begone with you!
You are no longer welcome here by any living creature.
Siren of Spring, where are you? Have you not the strength to battle him for rights?
Tis time Siren, herald your troops of a warm sun, gentle winds, and clear skies.

Banish him from this land for we have weathered enough of his follies,

we need a land of heat, a sky of blue, we need Spring.

Friday, April 23, 2021

spring blizzard - haiku

 late spring snow blizzard

daffies in bloom now broken

petals lay frozen

honey bees swarming

seeking open fresh flowers

are spent in repose

lilac, apple buds

glistening after the storm

in brilliant sunshine

Friday, April 16, 2021


 slumber find me

wrap me in your arms

silent, til I have rest enough

allow not waking

bird song to break

your spell of deep sleep

nor train whistles

speeding through town

singing at every crossroad

just let this mind and body

to relax and shut off

without thought or dream

slumber find me

this one night this week

I need the purge of life

Thursday, April 01, 2021

my books


What I’ve missed the most during the past year is perusing book shops. I am a collector with book cases overflowing with worn paged books, columns of read and yet to be read stacked in another corner of the den, piles of half read, when become bored, laying beside me bedTis me good night tradition, when done, the page is marked and light extinguished. I fall asleep with the writers vision in me head. A sweet way to end the day.

It’s not just the title or inscriptions, but the cover art that also entices me. Like a fine bottle of wine, the label speaks volumes. The artist, be a scribe or a vintner, designs the label to suit the song. And I, an aficionado of art, sings along with the story.

A few found delights are The Bar Harbor Retirement Home for Famous Writers, The Peacock Feast, The Lost Painting, The Chef’s Secret, The Hare with Amber Eyes, The Mermaid and Mrs. Hancock. There are many more that have found new homes with adventurous eyes and minds. I can’t write enough about seeking new authors with interesting tales to tell.

Books with a story, be it fiction or non, can envelope me so tight I find it difficult to breathe until the reading of the next chapter.  Steampunk, art, gardening, architecture, history, faerie tales, and even pop-up.  If they whisper to me, I will bring them home. Just say my name and I’m yours.

Saturday, March 27, 2021

Brava Sappers


Tis that time of year when the sugar shacks are producing liquid gold,

that ever so pure and sweet maple syrup, natures gift.

It is a long process with days and days of splying, gathering sap,

depending upon the weather. The temperature must be exact

and old timers are constantly checking the weather.

Too cold and trees shut down. Too warm and sap spoils quickly.

Collection is via buckets or hoses; we prefer buckets over plastic hoses

that must be sanitized regularly. Buckets are open to the elements

and what kid hasn’t drunk from one. Tis a right of passage.

I’ve worked a sugar camp for years and there is nothing so exhilarating

being in the bush, working until you collapse onto snow from exhaustion

with the widest smile upon your face and scent of maple syrup in the air.

Not only in the air but it permeates your clothing, that heavenly scent

inhaled by passerby’s in town who smile and nod. They know.

Unfortunately this year I can not participate and it saddens me so.

I relay weather updates hopefully ending with clear sky and warm temps

and silently moan wishing I was there. In my absence I was asked

to bake my secret Ginger Snaps. Spicy and moist, to keep the lads going.

And the lads kept at it, day and night, switching shifts,

even though the virus swept through the community,

those who returned followed strict protocol

until the weather turned dismal and soon buckets

were emptied and sadly the last was boiled off.

T’was a sad maple syrup season this year, weather and nature

battling about; friends kept sheltered, weather was dismal

and those die hards worked dawn to dusk to dawn

seeking to produce that glorious liquid gold.

O to those sappers, brava!

Friday, March 26, 2021

admiration - haiku


card playing barn owl

winks with such a passive face,

my admiration

Saturday, March 20, 2021

Spring awakes


First day of spring and dawn
brings light into the cabinet
filled with treasured heirlooms,
Wedgwood, Georgian silvers, ostrich egg

I have missed this glow,
living room bathed in sunshine
welcoming me to the day
and the task of overdue dusting

Soon the sun will shine higher
and leaves will shelter this view
but for now I shall relish this
and enjoy the awakening

Friday, March 12, 2021

Just a hug

 Tis been a year since I received a hug,

a hug, a simple physical emotion between two people

wrapping their arms around each other in celebration.

That celebration was my birthday.

This year there was no fine dining with dear-hearts,

no gathering of folk and friends,

just me, music, phone calls and e-mails.

The birthday cake was non-existent,

because the bakery was closed. Guess why.

It was replaced with a sliver of fine chocolate.

Kinda hard to light a candle in that.

I miss the humanity of celebration and I’m not alone.

If only we would respect each other by following rules.

I certainly do, at work I’m a designated essential service

or my job is. I’m there for employees though

I’d prefer to be elsewhere safe and sound.

But I’m there and find it difficult to remain hug-less

when a co-worker has just been diagnosed.

~sigh~ Tis so hard to deal with.

This may turn in to a rant, and I try not to here but

My message to the Covidiots is this,

STOP, just STOP!

Follow the rules. I’ve given up much of my emotional life,

as have my clan so why can’t you? It isn’t that hard.

And so my birthday continues with mixing pigments,

tuning into Motown, scribbling and finding an ooommmm.

for better days ahead.

Friday, March 05, 2021

Springs Arrival


I smell the arrival in the air,

it is the clarity, the freshness of still snow covered land

while sunbeams melt it thus so.

Grian rises in colour as he does when leaving us,

colours o the colours of peach, salmon and gold,

gifts to us from earth awaking.

Twilight descends later and as in the awaking

he bids adieu with colour, the background

silhouetting neighbours spruce and fir.

I see the arrival in the bunny trails

across the garden and drive

seeking out over-wintered shoots.

Tracks majically appear over night

playing ring around the rosie apple trees,

then on to follow shoveled paths.

When the dawning begins it hops off

to its home underneath the veranda,

it knows it will be safe til twilight.

I hear the arrival with birds on wing,

crows have returned from their country home

heralding the awakening.

Their bodies fly with lucidity

slowness of wing, there is no rush, no hurry,

to be about their business.

They seek out winter ravaged nests

ear-marking when mothers return to roost,

murderous aviators on the hunt.

Monday, March 01, 2021



twilight, when stars

begin to appear

I follow their birth yet

my eyes sense movement,

the shadow of an owl

glides over head,

not a wing beat, not a note

as it silently, stealthy

winds its way through

apple trees and onward

to the river

Saturday, February 27, 2021

full Snow Moon


Silence descends after the blizzard

while the full Snow Moon rises over the river.

I have a front seat view while it slowly ascends

not as vibrant or huge as two nights past.

Though it is full, there is something lacking

in its form, brightness, colour.

The view makes me wonder that the expectation

of brilliance somewhat dims after creation.

As in life and nature, it is not the end destination

but the journey that makes it worthwhile.

Sunday, February 14, 2021

moulded joy

What a simple act of joy gives life to people...

A neighbour woman and young son

created penguins moulded from snow

and lined the park snowbanks with their creations.

Since their arrival I make a point of driving by every day

to ensure they are safe and sound.

When the snowplow buries them, they are replaced.

The grin on my face, as well as many others

who come to see the penguin parade, are priceless.

This is what we need more of simple acts of kindness

Thank you neighbour and young son.

You have no idea how much this means

to those who are barely holding on.

missing you...


I will always be grateful for your birth Sista, 
even though I miss you dearly,
your light will always shine

Saturday, February 13, 2021

pigments - haiku

nimble fingers ply

pigments with subtle brushes

landscape impressions

Friday, February 12, 2021

This winter

This winter, O this winter

has been, and is, one of memories

when we embraced cold and snow

when we bundled up within layers of clothing

when we walked in sunshine exhaling ice crystals

when we cheered at the slap of pucks from backyard rinks

when we squinted through toques and scarves

when we laughed at lopsided snow-men

when we filled bird-feeders twice a day

when we carved tunnels in snow banks

when we were just present,

without a care in the world

This winter, O this winter

has been, and is, a remembrance of life

crunch - haiku

before sun rises

the crunch of my boots wakens
squirrels curled in their nest 

Friday, January 22, 2021

daddy long legs - haiku

lone Daddy long legs

translucent in candle light

weaves downward spiral

Friday, January 15, 2021



After Dark,

my favourite CBC broadcast

surrounds me with easy vibes

I need this comfort this night

Tis a night worthy of soothing chords,

relaxing melodies, and peaceful vocals

making one forget the day, the week

I will wake in a new beginning

Running with Insanity plays,

I ponder such a fitting title for these days

though words sing of hope

will it last

White Shite is moving in,

thankful it’s the weekend

and not Sunday night

greased snow shovel awaits

bird feeder AKA squirrel feeder

is full, awaiting the blizzard

they need to eat too

as do I, but not during the storm

squirrels are spoiled

with leftover Christmas cookies,

Ginger Snaps are favoured

the zing provides a giggle

I wished an employee good life

a Syrian refugee who we gave a new beginning

he wrote my name in Arabic as a farewell

I am so honoured

rhymes are a tad off this night

this is more of a pondering

before I bid a good night

and wishing for a sound sleep

Friday, January 08, 2021

coloured lights - haiku


coloured lights from the

old soap factory mirrored

on the ice-free Tay

Saturday, January 02, 2021


New Years night is foreboding

streets are without travelers

neither two-legged or vehicular,

no shadows cast upon the landscape

of grey and brown, an ugly quiet

Slowly the air becomes brighter,

falling flakes clouding street lights

and the dismal landscape silently

takes on a winter whiteness

First light reveals a lighter landscape

the garden is blanketed in white

shrubs and trees have laden branches

long awaited moisture has arrived

and in the stillness there remains quiet