Haiga

Daily Haiga

Haiku: winter

 

an icy blue sky

clear to the horizon

my calendar empty 

heavy snow

we watch old movies

in black and white

bus stop

the winter dance

of cold feet

Cattails

Modern Haiku

Heron’s Nest

Haibun: Center Stage



I’m shy,  a little overweight and wear glasses.  I’m eleven years old.  I’m smart, but I don’t raise my hand in class.  I don’t volunteer to read aloud.  I don’t want to be included in a school play, even as the narrator reading from a script.  I’m not like my older sister who relishes being center stage.  When appointed to be the narrator, I’m too scared to object. I practice reading the lines at home, again and again.  My sister is my audience.  Rehearsals go smoothly; there’s only the teacher and the other kids in the play.  On the day of the show, there’s lots of encouragement from the teacher and big sis, but now there is an audience.

“You have to do it,” my sister says

“You do it,” I say.  I give her the script and go sit in the back of the auditorium. 

She does it beautifully, not merely reading the narrative, but reciting it from memory.

spring snowfall

daffodil buds delayed

another day

One Hundred Gourds, March 2012

Haiga: Butterflies

Haigaonline Jan. 2018

Haiku

cave echoes

my mistakes

come rushing back

receding tide

in the rocks

part of each wave



Frogpond, 2014

HSA Anthology 2015

Haibun

 

                                       FERN GLEN 

We park in the nature preserve near a path that leads downward. On our left is a pond edged with water lilies and lotus blossoms. Along the outer edge grow reeds and bulrushes.  A familiar sound causes us to turn towards it.

                               an ancient poem–

                               a pond, a frog, a splash

                               widening ripples

                               continue through the ages

                               a beginning with no end

A rustle in the reeds attracts our attention again. This time, it’s a painted turtle with a shell about six inches long, moving slowly toward the pond. After watching it quietly slide into the water, we begin our descent. The dirt path is rutted and peppered with loose stones.

                                 slow and steady

                                 helping each other

                                 to keep our balance;

                                 through long years of marriage

                                 there is still a garden

Low growing plants fill in the spaces between mature trees, the green enlivened by occasional clusters of small pink or white blossoms.  At the end of our descent is a thick growth of ferns in various sizes and species, from a single shoot of only a few inches to others two and three feet high and just as wide across.   

We’re the only ones here, but others have come before us. 

                                  a hidden Eden

                                  the songs of a coursing spring

                                  the chirring of birds

                                  a bench for the weary

                                  a place for body and soul

Haibun Today

Tanka Prose,

Dec. 2017

Haiku

a quick flowing stream

in late afternoon

the hurried shadows

full moon

on my neighbor's porch

a new light

goldenrod

growing in abundance

a new restlessness

Presence 2015

Daily Haiku 2011

One Hundred Gourds 2012



Haibun

                                                                            
                                                                       Clean-up 

The autumn chores are complete. Plants cut back. The planting beds cleared of debris. Wood stacked by the back door. Container plants we want to save brought inside. Each year we ask:  how much longer can we do this? Each year we move more slowly; the clean-up takes longer; we have more aches afterwards. Knees, backs, shoulders–all complaining loudly. Each year we think about a condo.

                                                                       a sunny window–

                                                                       begonias inside

                                                                        a bee outside

 World Haiku Review