HAIKU LIGHT

HAIKU LIGHT

September 2001, page 1

LEROY GORMAN:

at her grave
he digs moss
from his name

in the underground garage
the latest car's rain
with petals

Lent sunrise
at the river the shine
of icecoated thorns

S. R. SPANYER:

first light
peeling
an orange

Old handshake:
each searches the face for the face
of years ago

Breaking bread—
two Franciscans bicker
like old brothers

KATHY LIPPARD COBB:

morning glories—
a smell of newness
as I hold the baby

summer lethargy—
the ambulance speeds by
on a towtruck

lightning flash—
a lizard darts between
perfume bottles

ANGELIKA KOLOMPAR:

Green and white lanterns
under the cedars
snowdrops

Christmas tree --
hanging memories
one by one

grey sea and sky
she dreams
of blue irises

ai li:

no one remembers
that afternoon
sheets laid for love

by one bed
at the hospice
daily red rose

an artist
mixing red
the first robin

PAUL MacNEIL:

full-blown tulips
the nurse replaces
an IV bag

summer haze
a long wake curls ashore
lifting a frog

museum Buddha
wood-grain swirls
replace stolen gilt

J.D. HESKIN:

the mill wheel
has stopped again--
those dam beavers

the fire engine
that passed me up
turns into my house

to Highway 10:
so much shorter
on the map

odd gurre aksnes:

dusk . . .
the stillness of swans
in a flooded field

spring sun
in the shadow of a bucket
a black button

in spring sun
a glimpse of blue
the magpie

MIRIAM SAGAN:

the widow's short skirt,
gossips discuss who
wanted the divorce

LAYNE RUSSELL:

blown lavender bells
of the empress paulownia –
nowhere to step

ducks and geese glide
to floating bits of bread –
the cat’s eyes so round

MARTIN COHEN:

crescent moon...
near a half-eaten mouse
a Cheshire sleeps

mountain ~
the shadow spreading
on water

a breeze
ripples the pond
warbler's song

NAOMI BETH WAKAN:

Umbrellas fail
to keep off the rain
Kyoto in June

Blustery day
safe behind shutters. . .
the storm within

Our heads
touching the tatami
Landlords and tenants

FLORENCE VILÉN:

Only the bark left
on age-old apple trees
yet they blossom

Overgrown garden –
only on the balcony
are flowers not eaten

First autumn storm
on the small tree
not one leaf left

WILLIAM CULLEN, JR.:

deserted farm:
only silence
grows here

bullfrog song
the color
of dusk

full moon
bats diving in and out
of the lake mist

MATTHEW CHENEY:

sun
on the dead grass
a fleck of tinfoil

wind through the field
the birds stop
whistling

sunset
sinking into pines
sparrows

DAWN BRUCE:

after the funeral
suddenly smothered
in silence

white line of light
peace lilies

dusk
white petals of camellias
light the way

JOHN MARTIN:

sunless sky
the pomelo tree
with one golden fruit

roof-top puddle
the seagull takes off
with a spray

JASMINKA NADASKIC DJORDJEVIC:

first grass sprout
over father’s grave –
tenderness of wind

summer afternoon –
the scent of evergreens
slowly spreading

starry night –
frost patterns grow
from the window's edge

CHRISTOPHER PATCHEL:

meadow song –
the swirling dance
of thistledown

woodland solitude
deepening with dusk
the hoot of an owl

midnight stars –
our stroll through the neighborhood
trips light after light

DEBRA WOOLARD BENDER:

afternoon drizzle
a few winter oranges
deep in the grass

five or six
grandson takes the clock apart
to see what time is

rainy spell
the cat's shape flattens
into deeper sleep

PEGGY LYLES:

twilight breeze—
reeling in some lake weeds
with the big-mouth bass

wild azaleas
a meadowlark sings
into the scent

a sheltered path
fairy lilies
now and then

BILLIE WILSON:

early autumn—
the path to the waterfall
willowed with gold

turning for home—
the road north curves upward
full of sun

so lonely tonight—
walking slowly against
windrivenrain

BORIVOJ BUKVA:

In dark shadows
the forgotten old man
and a piece of bread

Carried by the wind
a gnat has flown
into a swallow’s bill

Abandoned dog
following
the beggar

HAIKU LIGHT: September Edition, page 2

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