a few haikus

The ocean, deep green,

is the true soul of summer.

I stare, and it stares back.

The islands,

emerald drops in a silver sea.

Nothing else exists.

Raindrops make ripples

in my soft clothes. Cold,

I feel alive.

Spring has returned

to the forest that I love.

Bleeding Hearts fit my chest.

Fiddleheads wait,

still furry and new,

cuddled close to their mother.

Raindrops parachute out of clouds

to reclaim lost territory.

The West Coast surrenders.