“Putter”
One thousand odd jobs
to distract from bigger tasks,
or one major change.
Steve D
Tag: poem
Haiku Sunday – Worn
“Worn”
Seams ripped, painted stains.
How much more can old clothes take
before they give up?
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Oversleep
“Oversleep”
The hour is late
when the child peeks his head up
to say good morning.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – About
“About”
Familiar places,
unfamiliar surroundings.
New public order.
Steve D
We went out to a couple breweries today, and it honestly caught me off guard having to actively think about social distancing rules in a public space. I’m not against such rules at all — in fact, I’m really proud of how cautious the state of Maryland has been through this pandemic. It’s just strange to be out in an otherwise casual setting and have to rethink how I interact with people there.
Haiku Sunday – Respite
“Respite”
June humidity
gives way to pattering rain
and quiet respite.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Droplet
“Droplet”
Splattered and speckled,
like a broken salt shaker.
New paint on old clothes.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Avoid
“Avoid”
Distracting oneself
from doing what is required
only leaves a void.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Coat
“Coat”
Fresh paint layered thick,
cover flaked plaster and brick,
a cellar face-lift.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Ride
“Ride”
A new vehicle
filled with possibilities
for our next road trip.
Steve D
Haiku Sunday – Grass
“Grass”
Small footfalls softened
as they zoom across the lawn
seeking adventure.
Steve D
Evening Satellite Publishing 