Wasp Moves [Haiku]

the wasp is still;
 the wasp jinks erratically.
  pilgrims break sanctity.  

Bougainvillea Bright [Haiku]

from the dark, cool room,
 the sunlit bougainvillea
  burns shapes in my sight

Seasons [Free Verse]

I

I remember Spring:
   tight and tender buds,
   soon to blossom

clouds -- low & swollen, 
   & rain scent in the air
II

I remember Summers:
   the season of freedom...

and mosquitoes,
   but, also, fireflies

exploration &
   calamine lotion
III

I remember the Fall:
   harvest time

Grain chaff in the air
   axle grease on the wind

Canadian geese
   Honk-Honk-Honk-ing
   in wedge formation
IV

I remember winters:
   snow days

snow drifts

the feel of the first morning
    of the season in which
    one woke up to a blanketing snow,
    having gone to bed with 
    pathetic matted grass

Night Colors [Free Verse]

It's dark.

But the neon burns,
   and bright signs
   color the night,

and that color
   shines against wet surfaces.

The color seems to float,
   and when I walk past
   it shifts, morphs, and flows,

becoming alive.

And it -- those bright primary colors --
   might just be creeping towards me
   like a killer kindergarten clown.

I turn to see the colors swirling,
   swirling but not advancing.

I stare into the color paisleys 
   as they dance yin-yang do-si-do's
   around the puddle.
  
I'm entranced & soothed,
   and no longer fear
   the colors will attack,
   turning me vibrant. 

Ghost or Dream? [Free Verse]

I glimpsed your ghost,
   but for a moment
   
   in the middle of the night
   
   just as I opened my eyes.

You stood stock still --
   right there at the foot of my bed.

I couldn't make out your expression
   in the short time before you faded.

In the morning, I learned
    that you died that night. 

Cave Monster [Common Meter]

I sit within an empty cave.
   It's empty, that's for sure.
 It's dark, so dark that nothing shines.
   What sound is that? A purr?

I'm in this cave, and not alone,
   but with what I can't say.
 It's in the back where it's jet black --
   a predator? Or prey?

I'm walking now; I don't dare run.
   the ground is all cockeyed
 with stalagmites and stalactites.
   I grope, in need of guide.

And feeling through Stygian space,
   I bust open my head.
 Warm blood, I feel, run down my face.
   I'm squeezed by rising dread.

I hear a squeak, a mouse strolls through;
   then silence is restored.
 If only my mind were so rid
   of its outsized horrors.

Vanishing Hills [Haiku]

rows of hills,
 each new ridge fades more
  into nothingness.