stoplight haiku

with eyes soft and long,
ushering in the heat
late morning

burrowing modern lessons
stalking summer
a thousand ways

still as a hornet
in the heat
under the old wood

jail break
prison train,
by the book.

say the obvious
and say it again
for extra truth.

come into my town
then love it
like that summer evening

it was too late
to catch the summer’s meaning.
yet.

hotel lives
hotel skies
got milk

summer green suave.
lightning later.
will to not will be.

its lime ghost
mist broaches slow
and terrific

sunlight minutes
old; soft yet,
awaiting

as if
my Iditarod hassled heart
goes just anywhere

unbroken traffic sounds
pale swath mood,
aloof.

the sun bent rooms
resting,
restlessly awaiting May

a wind torn sign,
a letter from a friend
past and present