Welcome to our semi-annual harvest of small poems – starting with our two photo-prompt winners.
subtexts
we cross the invisible
flight lines of bees
saving for a winter’s day gold-dusted bee
the sharp pop
of cooling lids
prickly pear jam
artichoke flowers
singed to blue
summer’s end
summer gossip
the endless song
of cicadas
late summer
the sky a tangle
of kite surfers
neighbor’s yard
three white butterflies
braid the air
monarch
out of nowhere–
and in the next breath
gone
here
for the time being
wind-sculpted tide pool
beachcombing —
I fill my pockets
with regret
this ragged rhythm
counting the beats per minute
late summer dusk
shaken
from my sleeping bag…
seeds of another summer
(Originally appeared in Chrysanthemum 15, April 2014)
she’s quite famous she tells me dandelion seed
all my rough edges
smoothed out by salt air
morning stroll
(haiga)
Tlingit dance —
the memory of the memory
of a friend
getting out of it
what I put in
didgeridoo
outdoor theater
the canyon wren’s
clear soliloquy
everyone
gets a bow
peonies
kitchen moon
a cricket sings
from my shoe
mid-throw
my dog catches
a new scent
home run
the baseball leaves us
all behind
first inning
a taste of the hot sun
in mustard
end of summer–
the hot dog vendor’s
last customer
twilight
losing sight
of the whiffle ball
roadside memorial
morning glories
ruffled by the wind
cemetery
a woodpecker’s
taps
for each grave
a different verb
carried, lifted, borne
(Originally published in what a [hiding] place, Cyberwit, 2019)
nightmare
unhinged all night
the banging shutter
hurricane rain
floating leaves
in the wheelbarrow
climate change rally
a toddler secure
on his father’s shoulders
a ruckus of crows
outside the polling place
all-day fog
cicadas drone
one campaign promise
after another
razor sharp
with his divisiveness
wrapping
the border wall
in concertina wire
overcast sky
the census taker asks
if I live alone
Veteran’s Day
he salutes with his
missing hand
a fawn at the heels
of a lame doe
sun mixes with rain
afternoon sun
an oarsman breaks
another cloud
(Originally in A Haze of Infinity, the London haiku group anthology, 2017)
autumn leaves more sky
unmarked grave …
a thousand red maples
offer their leaves
(haiga)
belonging
where I don’t belong
giant sequoia
outlasting
everyone she loved –
heartwood
the slit
in a cicada’s husk
hospice garden
narrowing arteries —
my friendship circle
dwindles
her good days…
scattered sunlight
in the garden
autumn afternoon…
I walk around inside
a Van Gogh
bubbles
scattering
children
grackles
the teen boys
raid the fridge
iced melon
a granddaughter’s grin
overflows her face
crowded sidewalk
briefly
part of a family
autumn rain
nothing new
in my e-mail
insomnia…
my computer
goes to sleep
forgotten frost
I add a name back
to my contacts
art of cursive
the barn swallows inking
a washi sky
one autumn cloud
meandering
pony ride
shoe box
my cat takes on
its shape
sunrise yoga
my body bends
into daylight
noon
the bonsai’s shadow
barely there
days end the sound of sunlight glinting off a distant jet
first light
her hands already full
of the day’s chores
chairs overturned
on dusk-lit tables–
a pause in the broom
dining alfresco
starlings break formation
on our server’s tattoo
the rill’s trick
a greenfinch moves
its green around
(Third Place, 2018 Henderson Haiku Contest, Haiku Society of America)
little things
clearer now
chickadee
a visit home
all the bird songs
sound the same
pinning it down with a song childhood memory
mountain meadow
ten thousand ways
to open to grace
(haiga)
just an excuse
to kiss you
mistletoe
empty terminal
the last bus riderless
departs on schedule
book club
all the characters
driven to drink
deep winter dive bar stares from an unfamiliar face
preparing my face
for the other faces
class reunion
revolving doors
the lies
we tell ourselves
Walden Pond
the whistle of a train
crosses the years
morning quiet
a minnow
nabs a gnat
wheelchair tai chi
a dragonfly
flexes its wings
pond strider the silence of Cassiopeia
(Originally in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 2:2, Spring/Summer 2019)
late road trip
pulled over
by the full moon
rush hour
a cross-hatch
of contrails
spring afternoon
every passing car throbs
with hip-hop
evening fog
I follow frogsong
all the way home
no fly in a flicker of the bluetongue’s tongue
plain brown bulb
the mystery
of becoming
(haiga)
a new mountain
trail in my chest
defibrillator
submerged skiff-
all the fish
it catches
rent arrears
my son’s goldfish swims
around its castle
beached seaweed
all the tangles
of this life
falling light
rinses over his face…
father at the sink
crow’s nest
in the crook of a tree
winter bones
growing
at an angle
winter sapling
northern lights
the blur of scarves
as skaters pass
(haiga)
agreeing to therapy
dishes dry
on the rack
deep winter
a spider’s web
in the skylight
an old cedar grove
behind the ancient temple–
deep wisdom
wedding eve
the clink of bangles
in red
yin and yang
snow paints
the coal yard
silent clouds
the sharp pop
of a hunter’s gun
deep winter
the small comfort
of tea tins
hothouse roses
without a scent
those words
of comfort
you almost offered
hometown diner–
whispered rumors
of misplaced love
pop-up snowstorm
the swirl of Van Gogh’s
starry nights
spring breeze
the happy wave
of long johns