a trend in chaos


I throw open the drapes this cold morning. Local harbingers of spring are out inspecting the yard. I haven’t seen robins for several days. Today they have left high places in the trees…despite gale force winds, snow and freezing temperatures, grubs must be rising to the surface. I peer at the tree next to the house. It’s still grey. I take a photo and enlarge it with my fingers. The bare limbs are knobbly, spears at the tips lead into the light.

counting days…
above shifting shadows
branches look dormant
nothing seems to change
yet spring unfolds.


A haibun for dVerse.

©2018 Ontheland

Late summer

Late summer hoppers

   time to harvest, clear and mulch

        fields buzz excitement


Summer evening

   my rushing blood is soundless

         in the steady hum


Last day of August 

    bird arrow crosses the sky

          autumn chill is here


© 2017 Ontheland

layer removed

Born into a world without personal computing, I learned to type using correction strips on a manual typewriter.

Five years ago I saw a woman google for information on her phone while in line at a concert. ‘How novel!’ I thought.

Now, in 2017, my phone is always with me, ready with time, weather, news, answers, camera, apps and books. But today, with no internet connection, I have a feeling of loss.  I am not lost though—an old familiar world has returned.

                      No internet 

                      unseen layer removed

                      old world returns



As I feel myself consumed
by insanity
I grasp repeatedly
impossible reality.
I sink in quicksand,
a hungry suction
drags me down.
I flail,
helpless in never-ending

There is no danger
no quicksand
this mindset
consumes me,
its energy,

Twisted nostalgia skips
across scratched memory
seen, felt, heard,
and as a puppet
I re-enact it all
over and over
until spring
thaw when
lucidity awakes
 and speaks:
"stand step back
stand step back
look listen hold on."

                                                       ©2017 Ontheland


Winds of change


Sudden blizzard

unleashes ghostly breath

misting in deathly white

hurling frozen fistfuls

to angry winds

until new day dawns

a fresh crystal blanket


each tree, each post

wedding white

burying all remains—

not lost, just waiting

to be uncovered

by wind and sun.


©2017 Ontheland

Photo credits:  The first photo is from Pixabay (public domain) and the second, I took in January last year.

Kim is the host today at dVerse Poets Pub for Quadrille Monday: ‘Ghost’.