park bench
pigeons begging
the homeless man
Author: Jeff Hoagland
Jeff Hoagland is a lifelong naturalist and an environmental educator with a passion for the wild. He enjoys sharing nature with his family and friends. Jeff's haiku can be found widely, in haiku journals, and on large stones throughout his community. He was featured in A New Resonance 7, enjoys presenting in-the-field haiku workshops, and is an Associate Editor for The Heron's Nest.
my memory
good enough
to keep me up
first night
in her bed
wild geese
living
on the edge
cattails
Perseids
counting
mosquitoes
my feelings
for her
fireflies
living
a shallow life
sunfish
campfire
I disappear
with the moth
summer picnic
the ants start
with dessert
kingfisher
splitting
the river
lightning
the vibration
of katydids
one cast
after another
measuring the brook
trying to put
a number on it
skipping stone
summer breeze
the scent of juniper
in my tumbler
mosquitoes
their own version
of birdsong
cultivating
my love for wildflowers
weeds
varied thrush
between notes
the unwavering light
dining
on the lake
water striders
dugout
chatter
house sparrows
a rustling
from within
deep autumn
completing
the silence
coyotes
deluge
the gospel
of unnamed streams
wood ducks
their calls
chase them upstream
the song remains the same song sparrow
wild violet
making a home
where I am
the tendrils
of a mermaid’s purse
forgotten tide
returning them
for more polish
skipping stones
the sky
in a box
bluebird