The snow

partly erased

the garden

The last light

between the mother

and her son

A few stars -

retaining the light

in the dark

A pair of jackdaws

scattering some night

through the dusk

All songs

out of tune

today

Popcorn XL -

even if only

for the pictures

Nothing left

from the ice cream

but her spoon

Winter rain

reciting its poem

on the skylight

There lies the bluebottle

that yesterday so yearned

to fly off

Candle wax stains

on the table cloth

after the romance

December sun -

a flower is dreaming

of summer

The old man

slowly getting up -

winter sun

The night

unmoved -

storm

Fifty six times

three hundred and sixty five times

this morning sun

Almost winter -

I've had enough of

falling leaves

Her new skates -

as if there was

no rain

Grey skies -

squalls seeking

shelter

Wake up, love

I have turned off

the rain

Getting cold

while peeing slow -

winternights

Walking arm in arm

to the vase with roses

at the end of her hallway

Farewell -

my heart heavier

than my backpack

The patience

of this empty field

in the night

Gardener's art -

raking the leaves

not the pebbles

Right before they fall

with the colour of summer sun -

ginkgo leaves

A brown line

along the rose petal -

her make-up

Blushing sun -

the last of the fig leaves

have fallen off

I alone

see her beauty -

7.15 AM

Black Pete -

the same shoes

as his sister!

The silence

booming down after

the chainsaw

Washed up

pebbles lost

in translation

The old willow -

a few poplar leaves

are visiting

The morning paper

in the cold letterbox -

a crack of light

A Dutch rusk 

with apricot jam -

sunrise

His overalls

on the clothesline -

the farmer waits for sun

The silence

under the umbrella -

rainfall

Autumn rain -

the last leaves

on the willow

Daylight too

gets blown away -

autumn gale

Sunrise -

the half moon

pales

One breath -

 the whole weight

of my words

The path -

moonlight on the mist

in the ditches

I walk 

to the moon and

get in my car

On the window

still holding night air

my sweater

The fields

dark and empty -

the moon full

Swirling leaves

in the empty fountain -

autumn in the city

Fog dripping

richer than rain

from the trees

Atumn moon

over the fog -

farewell

In front of the moon

a cloud of mosquitoes

captivated

Lost in translation -

the dog is cruising 

the kitchen floor

Somewhere a dog barks

everywhere the sun comes up -

Sunday morning

Withered leaves

at the Buddha statue

rustle a sutra

To cross the bridge at the end of democracy bring you own light

Between painting

and museum window -

'Untitled, (2014)'

Leaf by leaf

answers fall from

the question

Packed

with memories -

her empty flat

Cracked a walnut -

something is breaking along

with the first cracks

New roses -

a trace of summer

when I pass

Pondering

a haiku -

a crow calls

Her girl's smile

no longer in braces -

sun on the autumn leaf

Storm on the lake -

some foamy wave crests

are swans

Autumn storm -

the leaves are in

before I am

Autumn wind

never blows the leaves

óff my path

In the supermarket

I put the magazine back

she so liked to read

Autumn leaves -

each in his own time

leaves the tree

Autumn in the city -

plastic mushrooms

on the balcony

Under the sink

a sprouting onion -

october spring

A world

papered over without

Straatnieuws

He's now ploughing

the last light under -

autumn dusk

Autumn in the city -

a broken umbrella 

in a waste bin

How close it gets

before we put them away -

her old pictures

She's awake -

the whole house

full of sunlight

She's still asleep -

a streak of morning sun

through the clouds

Moon and cloud -

mondoud -

moon and cloud

Oats

sowed in autumn -

bowing

A pond

filled with silver -

full moon

Gusts of wind

through the ginkgo -

missing her

The scent of

yesterday's incense-

Monday

Autumn comes -

I'm raking the leaves

from its path

Where sad people

and sweet people

meet 

A blackbird hops

as we pass in silence

from tombstone to tombstone

All is done

now there is only

our waiting

A night bird calls-

I have nothing but

this silence

Evening -
on a reed leaf
a raindrop

She's no longer there -

I'll leave them in the vase

these old roses

Goodbye -

on my shouder

one grey hair

Short

hair autumn

wind

This morning -

the fly and the spider

still alive

The faster I go

the more it resists -

gentle wind

Sunrise -

the lights in the house

dissolve

Going home -

the rising sun meets

a falling leaf

Gusts of wind -

the noise of the mower

is mowed

A dash of sunlight -

on the garden table

rainwashed leeks

A mosquito -

lying awake

sucks

Untouched

the spider's web -

a bird sings

On the white rose

the first brown edges -

yet her thorns..

The last pear

just out of reach-

sun above the fog

After the harvest -

way out in the field

a farmer waves

Spoke my mind -

the dried-up mud

on my shoes

Saturday evening -

she whispers: "Home."

to her GPS

A broken heart -

the berries on this old bush

just don't ripen

Fog -

the  world

hesitates

A tiara

of pure spider web

from the morning garden

Feeding the doves -

the wind of their wings

surrounding me

Lying down
in my tall grasses -
neighbours mowing

The moon

now that the fountain

falls silent

A sip of tea -
the last light
dissolves

The call

of a single goose -

sunrise

A kestrel

on a branch -

morning mist

Dripping leaves -

the pond is bathing

in sunlight

The comfort

of all this rain

that keeps falling

The lawn

wears diamonds again -

morning sun

Home again -

the garden suffers from

separation anxiety disorder

The mud

from his deep well -

old friend

His butts

floating in his mug -

forgotten poet

The old man

walking in his orchard -

a late moon

Top Gear - my love paints her nails Ferrari red

From my breath

and my last dream -

the first bird

Summer rain

on the reed leaves -

you're it!

The truck

and the butterfly

in collision

The wind

centered on

stillness

The dog cuddled -

a cloud of affection

and short grey hairs

Green apples

but that full moon

can be picked

The mud

entering on

dog paws

Patiently waitng

at the back door -

the east wind

Alzheimer's-

I can't get my word

around it

An open book

dark sunglasses -

soft snoring

Listening to

my neighbour's complaints -

the shadow of a cloud

A half moon

over the grapes -

all that still comes

Tolling bells,

the dove and the crow -

Sunday morning

Sleep over -

my dad in his pyjamas 

and his walking-cane

Summer evening -

a harvester collects

my memories

Over the reeds

the moon sickle -

stiller yet

Dawn -

the reeds hail

the wind

Warm summer wind

through the empty plum tree -

home alone

Monday morning -

the spot where their kids lounged

on our sofa

Sunday morning -

the spots where their dog lay

in our garden border

The flowers

rearranged in their vase -

a better world

On the long branch
over the compost heap
the last plums

Reflected

in the roof of the hearses -

the empty heaven

Dusk -

the field of sunflowers

blooms on

Just turned this room

from a one fly- 

to a no-fly zone

The white heron

perfectly poised on

its reflection

After a rainy night
this clean washed world
for her birthday

Nothing moves but

this drop of sweat on my back -

summer heat

In these eastern fields

two.hundred.ninety.eight -

our lonely planet

The scent of roses

and the smell of cigars -

park bench

Looking up

my mouth filled with juice -

plum harvest

In the wheat

the spots that were lost

in translation

I will
never leave you -
his wound

Incense floating out

through the open window -

not a sound returns

A sea gull

with a sandwich -

school lunch break

Drama queen -

on the broken flower

a butterfly

Playing in tuxes

leaving in a clunker-

jazz musicians

At the park bench

their two walkers

side by side

For the time being

there are only rain drops

in the grapevine

High Noon -
weeds returning my gaze
unblinking

Bells tolling

and frogs croaking -

Sunday morning

Through the open window

to the flower vase and back -

a butterfly

Smiling

from beneath the bird shit -

the buddha

After the funeral

with granddad's encyclopedia

to the charity shop

She comes down the stairs

and goes back up right away-

new shoes

And time and again

this one little bird

interrupts me

High weeds

around the flagstones -

knitted brows

An old beach ball -

the two gals turn

into girls

The flower

gazing at

the painter

Rain shower -

every drop mentions

my roof

Sailing -

Heaven is

my ship

Flower heart -

a bumble bee's

hairy butt

Straight

through my mood

a butterfly

In the car

driving to the dentist

Mozart's requiem

Fields of clouds

without any trace

of weeds

The silence

between flower

and painter

Lost -

they send pictures

from limbo

This still wheat

in the summer night -

'All shall be well'

School camp -

the most excited

are the moms

Just two flies

meeting me -

an empty house

Now that I

also hold my breath

in the doldrums

Summer evening -

the gentle crackling

of the bug zapper

2-1

The ball
dragged like
a muleta

The full moon

gets no shut-eye -

those frogs!

Waidmannsheil -

the flies that are mating

are the slowest

Turn a right here

and then just keep going-

the low moon

Over the lake

that I pissed in last year

summer clouds

Wadded up socks

in the laundry basket -

daughter dear is back

A few pages

before giftwrapping

the book

I wait

next to a stone

that stones

Even the shade

now sits under the parasol -

midday sun

After the burial

the resurrection -

young beans

Two children

tightroping on the kerbstones-

the audience walks past

Home -

lost in translation

on the couch

Outside the frogs

but her kiss is for me-

summer night

Dawn -

untouched

all this

Everything in rows

except for these clouds-

farm landscape

Young wheat

so many

so one

Filled up with rain

next to half a sandcastle

a child's footprint

Gentle rain-

or is it the snails

in the lettuce?

Steady rain

at the last busstop -

soon now

The whole world

sits on the vacant bench

in the garden

The sink still full

the chairs empty again-

and always this heart

The dresscode

for grandma's party-

shaved

She puts on a shawl

and wraps me into

her calmness

The clouds

tirelessy careless

the mountain

After mowing

already I rake up

a scent of hay

Falling apart

without resisting-

the first rose

Across the path

a jasmine branch in full bud-

my bow deeper

Old lovers-

she uses his e-reader

as bookmarker

Full moon -
the stars are jealous
for one day

The hands
of the market vendor-
dried olives

Broom flowers
swept on the patio -
mistral

Morning light-
a glass bowl
of water

On offer
next to the perfumes-
pregnancy tests

The cicada
now that the cicada
stops

Smartphones only
at the tourists table-
l'auberge rurale

Packed too quickly-

the storm forgot

the moon

A new haircut-

two-step authentication

is in place

The tulips beheaded-

now only his overall

is blooming

The kitchen floor

now in leopard print-

wet dog

Turned down-

I'll just get on

with weeding

Silence-

the hand at his baret

trembling more and more

Together

weeding the path-

quieter and quieter

Not yet brave enough

to enter the water-

these young reeds

All of this

is already pure

unprocessed

The wind

raining in the reeds-

new moon

A silent garden-

the basket half filled with weeds

next to us

Over the young wheat a bird of p r e y

Young lettuces-

on a silver trail

they disappeared

After the exorcism

nothing remains of the Duvel

but an empty bottle

Time and again

the tree believes

to be wind

Marriage-

she's drying her hair

I'm blown away

The sun sings

a bird comes up-

then the alarm

The last Easter egg

underneath the pool table-

old people's home

The first frog

sings its passion-

Easter morning

A gust of wind

is walking our way-

young wheat

Easter-

the plucked weeds

keep growing

Morning sun-

the pond flows over

with it

One dog eye

very briefly opening-

low moon

Moon

slowly, slowly

go

Before bed

a glass of milk-

full moon

Low moon-

so much more light

than leaves

Sunlight

completely lost-

fog

Below the nest

the neigbour's cat-

spring is set

I seeded 

some summer haiku

for good measure

Last year's water

in his watering can-

old gardener

The young leaves

now up to his crown-

garden Buddha

Clear pond-

only my seeking

is found

The sun

is raining through

young leaves

Early morning-

if I close my eyes

it is still night

Blossom leaves

and a dead fly

in the cobweb

The young leaves

already up to his chin-

garden Buddha

Spring mowing-

the smell of fresh grass

and cat shits

A blooming tree

in front of the boutique-

spring fashion

Glaring spring sun-

the only shadow comes

from plum blossoms

Flower show-

a butterfly passes

the queue

Flowers in the fog-

our memories

of the weekend

Six years old-
this one sea shell
on the beach

Spring sun-

next to these two ducks

my heart floats

What is here-

but now without

words

From the ground

the tree from the air

the bird

Blood splatter'd

to whence we sat-

Shakespeare

Blood splatter'd

to whence we sat-

Shakespeare

Blood splatter'd

to whence we sat-

Shakespeare

Spring wind-

going it's own way

without seeking

A coal titmouse

is tapping shards of music

from the morning

Old stories-

they were still stored

in the wharf cellar

Strong wind-

the scent of daffodils

somewhere too

Morning mood-

waiting for the ping

of the microwave

Morning sun-

every dew drop

silver plated

Spring garden-

all coloured pencils

sharpened again

On a front door

an old army coat-

Budapest

Spring morning-

a dove setting daffodils

to music

The pond

at twilight-

visiting

Spring evening-

a glass half full

of moonlight

The garden

and this old body-

spring

I hear

a lonesome bird-

deep night

Guests-

no one spots dust

anywhere

Guests-

my love spots dust

everywhere

Already the garden

has me on my knees-

first spring day

Spring-

the old reeds

now break

In the tree

like a first spring leaf-

a little bird

His parents out-

the microwave meal

tastes like plastic