Six Haiku

On seeing two vultures wheeling high above
I
Black birds high above,
painted on a grey, green sky.
A last day had come.

II
Two black birds in a grey green sky
Wings atop the winds;
Held above a shattered world.


A blood moon rises
From a land of mysteries
Into western skies.

Then follows Isis,
Queen of all our histories,
Sun of nations’ eyes.


Rain falls on the pond
causing its face to giggle;
shredding the sky’s face.

A long bushy tail
Follows the trotting red fox;
Threats are everywhere.

By Tom Budesheim

rain splashing into a pond in the fall


Thomas Budesheim is a native of Virginia, but has lived in several states and 3 countries abroad, pursued an education in 8 institutions of higher learning after high school and earned 4 degrees in history, theology and law. One of the degrees was a doctorate from the University of Heidelberg, Germany. His working career includes faculty positions at theological seminaries in Kentucky, Kansas and Missouri, at the University of Kansas and at the Santa Fe (NM) Community College. He started and operated 3 businesses and practiced law for the past 28 years in both the public and the private sectors. His current projects include 2 picture books for children, a nonfiction book for consumers of legal services and a collection of poems in search of a publisher.

Photo by roblan

Sea Poetry Laid On The Sand

Born in the dark depths,
brought up by some force,
lines of the sea’s poetry
are laid upon the sand,
one after another,
with ever modulating rhythm,
stretching out in the glow
of the late sun on its way
to the wet womb
of those silent lines.

By Tom Budesheim

red seaweed on a white sand beach


Thomas Budesheim is a native of Virginia, but has lived in several states and 3 countries abroad, pursued an education in 8 institutions of higher learning after high school and earned 4 degrees in history, theology and law. One of the degrees was a doctorate from the University of Heidelberg, Germany. His working career includes faculty positions at theological seminaries in Kentucky, Kansas and Missouri, at the University of Kansas and at the Santa Fe (NM) Community College. He started and operated 3 businesses and practiced law for the past 28 years in both the public and the private sectors. His current projects include 2 picture books for children, a nonfiction book for consumers of legal services and a collection of poems in search of a publisher.

Photo of Hyams Beach, NSW Australia, by Leah-Anne Thompson

Leaves Jump Ship

Leaves jump ship in autumn,
In drifting answer to earth,
Summoned to ground like old feet
Each morning settle to floor
With no plan or purpose in mind.

In youth we rise each morning
Like a shoot drawing life
   From the great trunk,
On a journey to its own
Mighty form to nest the
Birds and web the spiders,
Nursery and shelter
Generations to follow.

Time quietens the disturbing
Call to movement, offering
Chance to heap about with
Like or strange, blown in
By stirring winds from
Beyond the garden walls.

By Tom Budesheim

 grandfather and grandson walking along path


Thomas Budesheim is a native of Virginia, but has lived in several states and 3 countries abroad, pursued an education in 8 institutions of higher learning after high school and earned 4 degrees in history, theology and law. One of the degrees was a doctorate from the University of Heidelberg, Germany. His working career includes faculty positions at theological seminaries in Kentucky, Kansas and Missouri, at the University of Kansas and at the Santa Fe (NM) Community College. He started and operated 3 businesses and practiced law for the past 28 years in both the public and the private sectors. His current projects include 2 picture books for children, a nonfiction book for consumers of legal services and a collection of poems in search of a publisher.

Photo by Cathy Yeulet

Early September Evenings

Looking down the hill where the tall trees push out and up from the ground, it
is all black, or so close to black most would see no difference.

But trace the tall tree trunk to the top where the leafing admits scant light
and there another vision of the world, with its contrasts, comes clear.

Oaks and cousins reach up toward the early September night sky, darkly
silhouetted in blurred shadows and moved by unseen whispers,

Where short months ago spring’s charming sparkles of incandescent flickers
floated earthward in answer to some undeniable summons,

Serenaded by curious and cacophonous anthems of winged and watery creatures,
each sounding its own insistent call for answer.

I missed that day when the flickers disappeared, too busy with matters too
important to notice that my world was

A bit darker than it was before. A bit darker. The journey from noon to night is
the time when it becomes a bit darker.

It is a marvel when we reach our early September evenings, when suppers are done
and the sky darkens, when the flickers of light

Yield to inevitable darkness. It is then that the spirit within us looks up, and
waits to be whispered gently into the night.

By Tom Budesheim

Evening sun glow through bare branches


Thomas Budesheim is a native of Virginia, but has lived in several states and 3 countries abroad, pursued an education in 8 institutions of higher learning after high school and earned 4 degrees in history, theology and law. One of the degrees was a doctorate from the University of Heidelberg, Germany. His working career includes faculty positions at theological seminaries in Kentucky, Kansas and Missouri, USA, at the University of Kansas and at the Santa Fe (NM) Community College. He started and operated 3 businesses and practiced law for the past 28 years in both the public and the private sectors. His current projects include 2 picture books for children, a nonfiction book for consumers of legal services and a collection of poems in search of a publisher.

Photo by the author