By the time I got to work today I was desperate for a piece of paper. Found some junk mail and scribbled two bits onto it – two phrases that had come to me while driving. Gave it a first run try at lunch time.

Morning Processional

I arose this morning magnificently
springing forth a surprise to everyone again,
cleansed myself of the night’s visions
and provided a gladsome feast for the cats
who averted their eyes to avoid being blinded.
I downed the morning nectar black and sweet
before starting down the road to destiny
where my epic tasks of the day await.
Along the two-lane, the sour cherries
pour themselves in triumphant salute
their petals floating down full of light
covering a ground known well before macadam
This moment, this late morning in May,
with the summer stretching ahead.

In honor of the two different types of owls heard last night (and none are serenading me tonight), some haiku:

Two owls, conversing
gentle hoot and staccato
I know not the words.

Owls, staccato hoots
bouncing against the mid-night,
echoes of past owls.

one calls then another
two owls or three in late May
other birds sotto.