haiku retrospective ccclxxv

mixed rain and sleet
the hothouse rose drops
another petal

22 February 2006


distant siren
the hurricane lantern swings
on its hook

27 February 2006


blue sky
a patch of snow in the shade
of the cedars

11 March 2006

haiku retrospective ccclxxiv

cold basement --
just put the christmas tree stand
next to the crutches

falling wood smoke --
a crooked stack of boxes
on the shop shelf

january sunshine --
a little fir tree leans
against the fir stump

sunlit raindrop --
scattered redwood fronds
on the brown tarp

paper snowflakes --
a little redwood wreathed
in wood smoke

grass sprouts --
the weathered slats
of the compost bin

january sunshine --
the little boy puts on
a pair of shorts

8 January 2006

haiku retrospective ccclxxiii

nightfall --
shooting stars
on the power lines

6 January 2006


winter night --
the linemen's floodlights glow
in the fog

6 January 2006


watercolor sky --
the leafless sycamore trembles
in the breeze

12 January 2006

haiku retrospective ccclxxii

January--
the health club crowded
with resolutions

2 January 2006


late december --
my son's new year's resolution is
1680 X 1050

2 January 2006


gray dusk --
new speed bumps in the road
to my old school

3 January 2006

haiku retrospective ccclxxi

christmas break --
sniffly kids wrapped in quilts
by the fire

23 December 2005


presents --
the calico cat settles herself
on the hood of the car

25 December 2005


new year --
the slow march of raindrops
on the roof

2 January 2006

haiku retrospective ccclxx

drawn shades --
the suncatcher swings
on its chain

14 December 2005


solstice ::
the candle in the putt-putt boat
goes out

20 December 2005


early winter --
a fixed smile
on her new face

21 December 2005

haiku retrospective ccclxix

This started with an online discussion with my friend Jennie over an attempt to write a haiku to express a particular moment in her life. The discussion evolved to a playful series of haiku about haiku failures.

winter wind --
she uses her failed haiku
to start the fire


(And that's not, either)


christmas muzac --
pale sunshine skims the tops
of the trees

This started as something like:

christmas muzac --
the pale sunshine can't make it
through the trees

or

christmas muzac --
the pale sunshine can't penetrate
the trees

or

christmas muzac --
the stubborn sunshine won't filter
through the trees


Winter sunshine is so weak and anemic compared to the summer variety. I feel like I live in a dark hollow under all these trees when the days are short.

Have a lovely weekend, Jennie.

christmas muzac --
no sign of the sun
in the mall

9 December 2005