Women artists

Hands on hip, baby,
sketchbook. Diapering, drawing,
birthing creation.

Missed the bus

Now she has time to
blow dry her hair while I rub
away sleep, then drive.

Paperless Christmas

Being green we use
fabric bags old boxes to
wrap gifts. No trees die.

Abandoned haiku blog

My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.

Unemployed Christmas

Can days be merry
and bright? Jobs – like ornaments –
fragile, out of reach.

Honey, I’m home!

Has it really been
a month since I told you all
about my day, dear?

Rainy days

Earthworms emerge, splayed
across sidewalks, tender skin
snags on rough concrete.

Laptop

An adult blankie.
To take one from its owner
will make grown men cry.

Back pain

Hunched and hobbling I
move as if years older, a
taste of what’s to come.

Disorganized

Incrementally
I clean unearthing a clear
space on the table.