orb weaver
floats a line
on the wind
.
beachcombing
a cracked inkwell
filled with mud
.
end of summer
the smell of neoprene
drying
.
father’s day
a chair left under
the cherry tree
.
a redshank’s echo skims the river moon
Wales Haiku Journal, Spring 2018, ed. Paul Chambers
when no one is looking tree hugger
.
a hare’s shape
tucked close
to earth
.
forest clearing the woodpecker’s echo
.
Akitsu Quarterly, Spring 2018, ed. Robin White
Observations of a child at play and an exploration of the wounds that haunt us find voice in two beautiful haiku by Caroline Skanne.
a child hums . . .
adding more blue
to the summer sky
This haiku captures a beautiful moment of contentment and creativity in all its simplicity and wonder. A child paints a picture of a warm summer day, happily humming along. And just when you think this moment could not be more perfect, the child, in the full power of his innocence, makes the sky a deeper, truer blue, placing his handiwork, and even himself, firmly in connection with nature. The poem is written with almost journalistic detachment, as though by a parent observing her child at play, but the warmth of the scene itself fills the heart with joy.
***
twisted hazel
so many secrets
so many scars
How easy it is in this life for things to go off course. An old wound, a deeply hidden shame can send everything askew, for fear of stirring up more pain. Once things are off the rails, can they ever be set straight? Is it possible to find true healing and total freedom from what hurts and haunts us? Even a scar is a reminder of what went wrong. But, even though the “twisted hazel” in this poem is a reminder of the things that just didn’t go right, it’s also a symbol of a living thing, continually growing in unexpected ways.
Inner Voices: the International Women’s Haiku Festival, ed. Jennifer Hambrick,
Caroline Skanne 