Haiku Digest #3
Haiku
Morning frost
beauty preserved
as droplets
unexpected snow
ambitious winter's green hue
Icarus autumn
Stiff wind strips the trees
Leaves ripple the water—
but not as pebbles do
Forest trees ablaze
overcast amber skies alight
dimmer lands below
Crisp air, shivering
a warm sweater thwarts the cold
beginning to fade
Bitter, chilling air
vanished by the rising sun
earlier each day
Slow is a sunrise
when your neighbors are buildings
living in downtown
Glass-laden friendships
with endless miles of walkways
circling one-way streets
All I need is near
just a short walk away—
but I long to escape
Haibun
A busy street in downtown Minneapolis—frequented by busses, bisected by train tracks, escorted by shops and high rises alike, during fleeting summer weeks is blocked off; the harvest overruns the street.
Apple falling
upon waiting concrete—
farmers' market
Countless tints of white, all clean at first glance. The discriminating eye discerns the difference and begins to better understand what it means to be truly pure.
Pearl necklace
dirty in the snow
when dropped
Winter keeps trying to creep in. Snow falls and melts, but the bees have long since departed. I sipped honeyed tea with family for the first time in a while today—a much needed reprieve. But as honey takes time to make, I imagined the effort from my flying friend that it took to sweeten my tea and was thankful for it.
A honey bee
kneading pollen—
for tea cakes