Quiet Wins

I’m promising her I’ll notice

The grains of sand
One by one falling away

The fog, that had cooled her head
Rolling back, uncool, after all

The once-silent roar
The power regained

Now since she’s picked up her mat

Steward of Skies: A Haiku

Dear John, I love you
for proposing our hearts hear
the quiet, the roar. 

The loon’s skidding feet
across glassy still tables
for to glacier meet.

The death then new life
when lightning then lumber clashed
you championed this.

Be still would this land
and her creatures take her hand
in fellowship one.