midwinter
the bird’s injured
left wing

Published by

w. f. owen

w.f. owen (ToDrBill at aol.com) is a Professor of Communication, a founding member of the Central Valley Haiku Club of California, and a member of the Haiku Poets of Northern California and the Haiku Society of America. He publishes regularly in such journals as Frogpond, Modern Haiku and Acorn, and has received awards in the 2001 Henderson Haiku and Brady Senryu contests. In 2002, he has won awards in the World Haiku Festival R. H. Blyth contest and the California Civil Liberties Public Education Program contest sponsored by the California State Library Foundation.

9 thoughts on “”

  1. mid night –
    the bed’s sheets unwrinkle
    he walks the floor

    mid way, in winter
    the ice breaks –
    he remembers summer

    mid day, he watches and wait
    the moon shares the sky –
    her phone call soon

  2. ah, Prof. Bill, this is wonderful, kind of reminds
    me of a shrewed Killdeer, trying to out-fox a fox.

    As nice as: Adult Condor No. 8 (how sad, 4 wood
    duck boxes were shoot up where screech owls were
    roosting.)

    Gene

  3. professor, i love yours. i wrote one about sparrows myself recently;

    fallen swallow
    claws, flaps its wings
    eyes affixed on the sky

  4. snowstorm~
    arctic dreams in
    an isolated village~

    my distant cottage~
    the footpath has vanished
    in white vastness

    midwinter~
    a solitary rider zooms
    across the sky

    snow in front
    snow behind me
    snow all over~

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