9 thoughts on “”

  1. swamp mist…
    the old frogger wades into
    a stand of cattails

    swamp fog…
    the monotone croaking
    of invisible frogs

  2. Thanks Helen. Its a beautiful Haiku. Substitute the bird and the bouncing branch and we could fit in any of our memories in it.
    —————————-
    All I could bring of
    the blue sea was a pocketful
    of white shells

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