Janice Doppler

Summer Theater

We pull chairs to the edge of the deck of the 1850s grist-mill-turned-ice-cream-parlor. In the stream below, nested bands of brown, tan, and tawny sand draw my eyes to a large, flat rock. . . the rock where a snake is sunning.

humid day
licking runaway drips
of strawberry swirl

Monarch butterflies sip from joe-pye-weed blossoms. High-pitched calls signal the arrival of a half-dozen cedar waxwings that gorge on ripe cherries in an overhanging tree. An eastern phoebe devours a dragonfly. A fox explores the edge of the pool where a mallard and her ducklings lingered during a previous ice cream matinee. The snake’s eyes follow the approaching school of minnows. An unexpected cloudburst. . .

mammogram callback—
on the last wild rose
her fingertip

---

About the Author

Janice Doppler is a retired school teacher and administrator living at the edge of a Massachusetts forest. She placed second in the Porad Haiku Award in 2021 and 2022.  If she isn’t doing tai chi, watching or carving a bird, or writing poetry, she is studying Chinese philosophy or eating chocolate. Her debut collection of haiku and haibun is Stardust.

---