Certain topics I try to approach
with caution in the writing of haiku:
crow, dragonfly, firefly, for example,
falling leaves, skipping stones and, and,
and babbling brooks. There’s the moon
of course, the moon the moon the moon,
and scarecrow, spring breeze, new coolness,
blossom, birdsong, the way or the how of things.
Shadows go without saying. They’re everywhere.
And, being guilty of humanness, I too am prone
to the interrogation of owls, the hush of pines,
the stubble of starfish, all manner of raindrops
suspended from god knows what and for how long
exactly the reason to catch one, freeze-frame it
for over the mantle. A fate that has befallen me.

dryer on the fritz
the spring breeze
my mother raved about

Peter Newton