Tag: haiku

 

my mother’s heart breaks
for those vigilant blue birds;
sparrows everywhere

 

 

 

 

outside after dark–
the neighborhood peepers are
throwing a rager

 

 

 

beside the ball field
where we used to set our chairs–
younger families

 

 

I didn’t publish a haiku here yesterday, which is just how it goes sometimes. As it happened, I did find a haiku moment–noticed a collection of dirt mounds across the road from my house, where the ferns will soon grow, and realized in a flash, as I drove by, that the ferns were growing that very second, pushing up the dirt over their fiddleheads, making the little mounds that had caught my eyes. But later, home again and notebook opened, the moment wouldn’t fit into just seventeen syllables. Which is just how it goes sometimes.

Before bed, though, a different sparkly moment, under a cold sky and over the crunchy spring snow, and that moment became this morning’s haiku …

bringing the dog out
before bed; the sound of snow
under his slippers

I hope you find some haiku moments today.

 

every morning
I pick up sticks; every
night the trees drop more

 

 

 

the Easter cactus
and I on opposite sides
of the sink, blooming

 

 

 

chilly spring morning;
blue jay on the fence rail leans
into the compost

 

 

 

white crocuses bloom;
my mind wanders off to find
the tardy purples

 

 

 

emerging from leaves
at the edge of a spring pond–
ancient tennis ball