Preying Mantis


summer elegance

green, stately, silent approach

will you stay or leave?


preying mantis eyes

silently approach, unfazed

we meet in wonder


the Creator birthed

me and thee, preying mantis

sharing summer space


Copyright Aug. 29, 2020
by Jean J Luce


Seated together – my established white hair and his restless 40 years.
We were bound for Phoenix, home for me, a plane change for him.
He had a lot to say, many questions. He was excited about airplanes, hamburgers, a vacation. His sister would meet him in Yuma, his mother saw him off in Vancouver.
An airline escort checked on him.
What food do you like? I had barbecue last night. Do you like barbecue? I like pork chops too. Do you like . . .
I produced a book of poetry as an escape, he ordered more coffee and five sugar packets.
He asked what I was reading. I read aloud a poem by Emily Dickinson.
We should think about these words, I say.
We offered feelings about the few stanzas; we listened; we talked.
As we concluded he rubbed his hands together and announced,
That was fun! Let’s do another one.

different wavelengths
read poetry together
in the troposphere

Jean Luce
revised May 29, 2020
My first haibun!




from withered kernels
acres of green will tassel
if there is water.

roots anchor, leaves shade
ears flare from rows of tall stalks
if there is water.

A ubiquitous crop of corn in June 2019 in Sussex County, DE.
Photo and haiku by Jean Jaquette Luce  August 3, 2019


This day she finds sand
to dig, not knowing the crow
will feed on soft eggs.

While in Delaware in June, the lake turtles faithfully came ashore to deposit eggs. They dug in the sand, expelled the eggs, covered the dozens of eggs and returned to the water. Often a crow watched, waited and consumed. I felt sorry.