a hint of jasmine
the rest
is moonlight
laughter across a fence the first orange-tip
mudflats the redshank’s beak drips dawn light
The Haiku Hecameron: Gratitude in the Time of COVID-19
white butterflies what language to pray in
Modern Haiku, 51:3
a hint of jasmine
the rest
is moonlight
laughter across a fence the first orange-tip
mudflats the redshank’s beak drips dawn light
The Haiku Hecameron: Gratitude in the Time of COVID-19
white butterflies what language to pray in
Modern Haiku, 51:3
river mist
slowly morning
finds a way
Presence 65
stone steps
down hops a fly
with only one wing
Otata 46
tumbling stream
a sea thrift withers
where it bloomed
Presence 66
refusing to conceptualize winter stars
NOON #16
the sound rain makes of dawn
Modern Haiku, 50:1
reflected
in your eyes
my doubt
frogpond, 41.4
aspen leaves
the storyteller
in me
summer breeze
one hand
on her straw hat
hogweed umbel
the spider secures
—its line
moonlit river
by now we know
how it feels
going deeper
into the moment
a bee’s shadow
rain pattern
humming something
ancient
Otata #36, Dec, 2018 ed. John Martone
more here: https://otatablog.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/otata-36-december-2018.pdf
dry riverbed
a gull cries
into its echo
first day of school
he repacks his bag
just one more time
Presence #62, edited by Ian Storr, Matthew Paul, Alison Williams
between stalks of sea thrift evening sun
Wales Haiku Journal, Autumn 2018, ed. Paul Chambers
new butterfly
its shadow stumbles
into mine
a pebble
sinks into its silence
river dusk
Presence #61, edited by Ian Storr, Matthew Paul, Alison Williams
in one breath
a feather lands
on its shadow
.
summer sun
a fly walks down
the dandelion’s stem
Kō, Spring 2018, ed. Kōko Katō
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