the shape of a life
one sparkling wave
returns to the sea
art and haiku by Annette Makino
Author: Annette Makino
Annette Makino is a poet and artist who writes haiku and senryu and illustrates her poems with Japanese ink paintings. Her pieces, comprising a few words and brushstrokes, convey a quiet Zen perspective and gentle sense of humor. There is a gallery of her work at www.makinostudios.com.
sun-striped path
the forest’s outbreath
fills our lungs
to love this body
just as it is
twisted shore pines
deep river
the places
that call us home
bright green needles
on the fire-scarred redwood —
what we’ve each survived
fox tracks …
who was I before
I was tamed?
(Haiku first published in The Heron?s Nest, Volume XVII, Number 1: March 2015)
beach umbrella
all day the orbit
of its shadow
(haiku published in The Heron’s Nest, XXI.3, Sept. 2019)
plain brown bulb
the mystery
of becoming
mountain meadow ten thousand ways to open into grace
redwood time . . .
the steady journey
from earth to sky
https://www.makinostudios.com/gallery
mouth of the river
an ever-changing story
told to the sea
daffodil shoots
parts of us emerge
from hibernation
(Golden Haiku Competition, 2018, Golden Triangle BID, Washington, D.C.)
water and stone
how we shape
each other
the crunch of frost
bare branches of the oak
alive with stars
eye exam
in the dark he compliments
my retinas
(The Heron’s Nest, XVI:4, December 2014)
home from errands —
a hero’s welcome
from the dog
(Originally appeared in Modern Haiku 44:1, Winter/Spring 2013)
end of yoga
one of the corpses
lightly snoring
(Previously appeared in Yoga-ku, Ed. Terri French, 2014)
the time we are given…
sparks rise through darkness
to join the stars
summer bonfire
the Christmas tree lights up
one last time
(originally appeared in Prune Juice, Issue 11, November 2013)
hanging in my closet the person I used to be
windswept dunes
the difference between
wants and needs
campaign sign
the dog registers
his opinion
(Haiku News, Vol. 1 No. 44, Nov. 12, 2012)
cowlick
some part of me
still wild
river current I practice letting go
cold winter rain
the swollen creek also
rushing home
highway markers
how quickly the future
blurs into the past