twenty-two (tanka)

Arms reach out, eager
to touch stingy distant rays,
spring (as usual)
approaching with cold feet, slow—
much too slow, if you ask me.




A world in darkness
But, no! Inky night covers
Not the whole, but half

Sometimes it’s hard for me to actively remember that the earth is round, that “winter solstice” does not indicate mid December exclusively, and that half the earth has theirs in June (hi, Shayna!).

With time differences, it’s a little easier to remember. For example, my sister lives in Vienna, so I often get texts from her at 4am and when I FaceTime her after work in my afternoon, she usually cuts me short so she can go to bed. But when it comes to opposing seasons, my mind stubbornly holds onto what it can see.

Last year was my first “warm” Christmas, at about fifty degrees and sunny. But I’ve never had a long Christmas. As kids, my sisters and I didn’t wake up all that early on Christmas morning (compared to some families I knew), but it was still always before the sun was fully up; and then dark by 4:00, with hours still to endure waking life in darkness. But imagine! The sun shining bright and early, a long day of fun outside, grilling the Christmas ham. I will likely never experience this, as most Northern Hemispherians won’t.

A woman I know always says, “What goes around comes around.” She means it in terms of acts of cruelty and kindness – how we eventually get what we dish out. But, more literally, remember! Though in the dead of winter now, we will slowly but surely roll our pasty faces back towards the sun.

Snowflakes at my parents’ house, a few winter solstices ago



Like graying temples
in the November of life—
orange, yellow, red

While New England leaves are long gone, mid-Atlantic colors only just peaked.

A month, which in childhood I associated with the color gray, is now fringed with neon.



tempt the shortening days
obscure the seasons turning
over a new leaf

These past few weeks have been difficult for me, but I managed to squeeze out a haiku today after a walk in the swampy heat we’ve been having, in which I was surprised to find many gentle reminders of pending fall. Peace to you.



The house is almost out of food, but my feet hurt too much to grocery shop and it’s too hot to cook anyway, so here I am, writing, prolonging the inevitable.

I had a good week. My car, which had been making a sound that concerned me, was discharged with a clean bill of health (and a mere thirty dollar bill) by my trusted mechanic. My partner and I watched through the new Netflix original show, GLOW, which we enjoyed immensely and recommend.

I planned every morning to get up early so I could make coffee and lunches and have enough time to sit on the couch and drink my coffee instead of heading directly to work…and I made this happen one whole time! Monday morning I had enough time to do all of the above, and to finish a short story by The New Yorker author Yiyun Li, from her stories collection Gold Boy, Emerald Girl. The experience was so lovely, so the rest of the week I continued to set alarms for 5:30, 5:45, 5:55, 6:00, 6:10, and 6:15, but, alas, my half-asleep self has always been a stubborn, brutish fiend. I hope someday to replicate the experience. Maybe when I’m forty.

The heat and humidity has once again turned my kitchen into a sauna, and my plants are loving it. Candice the Caladium seems to have new leaf growth every day, and my partner won’t stop exclaiming about the success I’ve had with my avocado plant. (Yes, it does work! Expecting homemade guacamole in approximately three to fifteen years.)  I keep having to incrementally raise the window blinds because I believe Candy and Avi are having a height competition. Finally, my ginger root decided to become a plant again, its only stimulus from my end being disuse.

Avi. Just decided on this name right now, if you couldn’t tell.
Well she’s not named Blondie. Do I need pets?


It just started to thunder. I’m hoping the torrential rain sends a much-needed cool night our way. But right now, as the walkway floods, I’m enjoying the heavy sound of close thunder and fat rain.



Floor pattern flickers
Stretching in hot solstice beams
Long morning light dance



Happy summer solstice! May your day be long and your responsiblities few!