michaeljordahl

past our prime (tanka)

i look up and see

old apples still on the tree–

they’re a lot like me

soft, over-ripe, and snow-crowned,

we just keep hanging around

–photo by me

fleecing the sheep

when you see that religion’s a fraud

and that most of it’s tenets are flawed,

do not be too frightened

to become enlightened–

you don’t need a church to find god.

–photo by me

haiku 197

the starry night sky

spilling secrets of the past–

whispers of the vast

–photos by son aaron

traffic stop

mother nature hits

me with her red northern lights

and pulls me over

–photo by me

wordless wednesday 11/12/25

–photos by me (first one by aaron)

Sunday Thoughts 11/9/25

I have no intentions of hanging around my grave after I die; however, the specifics of the transition are hazy at best, and nothing is written in stone… yet. Just in case, here are my instructions:

bury me

on a grassy knoll

overlooking a lake

to the east,

so the rising sun

may warm my bones,

and i may

rest in peace

–photo by me

November Surprise

The shivering, young doe said, “Hey mate,

Tell me why it’s so cold as of late.”

Well, I knew right away

She’d been born around May,

And so all I could say was, “Just wait!”

–Photo by me

wordless wednesday 11/5/25

–photos by me

tanka tuesday

an ingredient

that can make all food taste great:

the picnic table–

especially when it’s on

the shore of a forest lake

–photo by me

haiku 196

grey skies overhead

bright yellow leaves underfoot–

walking on sunshine

–photo by me