September 9th 2019

falling
    on stacked firewood, autumn's first
        leaves

252: September 9th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 8th 2019

hitch-
    hiking—the butterfly passes her
        by

       
251: September 8th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 7th 2019

as
    night falls—the kitchen's shining 
        onions

       
250: September 7th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 6th 2019

I’m still jet-lagged. I want to fall asleep around eight and wake up five. I wouldn’t mind that if it weren’t for writing haiku. I like to put down my haiku in the evenings, but I’ve been falling asleep as I think through them. I feel like my efforts have suffered. The haiku feel like rough drafts. I may continue to work with them. In the meantime, I sit with this one a little earlier this evening.

pumpkins—
    round as the late summer's floating
        moon

249: September 9th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 5th 2019

 

heat
    lightning—rain glitters on a caterpillar's 
        back

248: September 8th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 4th 2019

only
    the web remaining—the last of a spider's
        summer

247: September 4th 2019 | bottlecap

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September 3rd 2019

down-
    pour—stars swept into the evening's 
        river


246: September 3rd 2019 | bottlecap

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September 2nd 2019

both
    sides of the stone wall—September's
        apples


245: September 2nd 2019 | bottlecap

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September 1st 2019

I was still blue today. Not sure what it is. Probably a combination of exhaustion, a return to routine, and the weight of responsibilities I no longer want.

But I’m guessing I’m not alone in feeling that way. What saved me was finally sitting down with my novel,  adding another page, starting a new chapter.

That lifted my mood.

That and September, my favorite month. I also have poems I want to finish.

early
    autumn clouds—shadows of their own
        shadows

244: September 1st 2019 | bottlecap

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August 31st 2019

I was going to write, in effect, my last post on my journey to Europe. I waited until evening, as I usually do, only for jet lag to suddenly catch up with me. Even typing this first paragraph, I’ve briefly fallen asleep twice. I’ll wait until tomorrow.

in
    no hurry—a porcupine under the bristling
        moon

243: August 31st 2019 | bottlecap

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