Haiku

    

 

                               watery sunshine–

                               the overnight leaves

                               piled at the door

                               tenth floor–

                               a picture window view

                               of fog

                               a brisk wind–
                               the memory of old wine
                               in wet leaves

Gean, summer 2009

Haiga

A Hundred Gourds, March 2012

Haiku

             
                               Late Summer Haiku

                                 top of the ridge
                                 distant cow bells
                                 behind the wind

                                 the cicadas' whine
                                 always in the tree
                                 just ahead

                                 neighbors shouting
                                 from the wild grapes
                                 multiple bird calls

Modern Haiku V.vi, no. 1, 1976

Riverbed Haiku, Autumn 2008
Pipe Dreams, 9/2011


 

Haibun

                                         WINE HARVEST

 

                                    ripe concord grapes–

                                    in the backyard a contest

                                    of spitting skins

It is a hot day in early September.  My grandfather picks grapes from the arbor to make wine.  My sister and I are told to stay out of his way and out of trouble.  Grandpa’s paisan arrives with additional grapes to supplement the backyard harvest, and they work together.  By late afternoon several baskets stand in even rows.  My mother will take one basket for jelly.  The rest will be pressed into juice, strained, bottled and stored in the cellar.

                                         sweat on his brow–

                                      he brushes cobwebs
                                      from last year’s bottle

Contemporary Haibun On-line, Spring 2011