Rhinebeck Haiku
Tired clouds sag
against the gray sky,
leaking moisture onto
the damp hard earth,
onto the soft leaves
of the dark forest
of silence.
Mary Westcott
Holiday Party
The chemistry of creativity in the flesh
The Rabbit at Dusk
The Rabbit at Dusk
Late day in Rhinebeck, New York’s mountains
And I see a cottontail rabbit munching on grass
outside a white cabin. Cicadas buzz in the distance,
the hare’s innocence a tranquil Buddha to my unrest.
I stop and think of my mother, her blind faith.
I consider feeding the rabbit breadcrumbs,
but my father’s steadfastness feeds the animal
instead. I gaze at the beast’s unperturbed
expression, begin to give birth to an idea,
layered like winter clothes. Fertile thoughts
sprawl across the vast expanse of green, born
from a day’s blue firmament, fixed yet ever-
changing in its cloud-face. Now the full moon
spills forth from the evening sky, shining back
to me.
Mary L Westcott
Late day in Rhinebeck, New York’s mountains
And I see a cottontail rabbit munching on grass
outside a white cabin. Cicadas buzz in the distance,
the hare’s innocence a tranquil Buddha to my unrest.
I stop and think of my mother, her blind faith.
I consider feeding the rabbit breadcrumbs,
but my father’s steadfastness feeds the animal
instead. I gaze at the beast’s unperturbed
expression, begin to give birth to an idea,
layered like winter clothes. Fertile thoughts
sprawl across the vast expanse of green, born
from a day’s blue firmament, fixed yet ever-
changing in its cloud-face. Now the full moon
spills forth from the evening sky, shining back
to me.
Mary L Westcott
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