Posted by: Bruce Proctor | June 30, 2016

Haiku from November 2014-on

November 2014

A foot of fresh snow
the front lawn all trampled up:
Thanksgiving Day.

Thanksgiving Day.
No father this year, Ethan’s
out hunting alone.

From Alabama
Zion makes his first snowman,
everyone helping.

Carrot for beak,
seaweed hair, buttons and eyes
of coal–and a scarf!

The snowman cries:
“I’m melting! I’m melting!”
4 o’clock dusk.

Under looming clouds
ducks dive in the dark water,
bright circles spreading.

January

A duck paddles
along at noon, trailing dazzling
streams of sunlight.

During the blizzard,
where do you go to be safe,
little ducks?

In winter, the house’s
thick walls pretty much
keep out the haiku.

Leave the door ajar,
and all those pesky haiku
start sneaking right in!

Half a dozen ducks:
one dives, a second follows,
then–plop!–all the rest.

On this clear day
the scuffed up water is twice
as blue as the sky.

March

Dazzling sprays of light
race every which way
over the water.

Cold as winter night,
winds gust in great bursts
of savage joy.

Out beyond the Point
armies of white caps throng
relentlessly.

April 2015, and on

The last white remnants
of snow–like a great, strange dream
almost forgotten.

The last white remnants
of snow–like the backs of whales
just submerging.

Through endless drabness
of early spring: the lilting
song of the sparrow.

You can only hear wind
in the tussling waters
beyond the Point.

White terns and white gulls
dip and skim just above the
tips of the whitecaps.

In one magic night
the peepers in every marsh are
all piping away!

How effortlessly
the daily, natural world
spreads out around us!

Last year’s leaves still swirl
as if still trying to be
butterflies or sparrows.

I prod it lightly:
is it its breath, or the wind
which makes it tremble?

Playing or working?:
from one acorn to the next,
bushy tail bouncing.

Pristine sheet of snow.
A set of bounding dog tracks.
A spot of yellow.

The grass all greened up,
dandelions in the lawn
blaze like van Gogh stars.

The first good spring day
filled up with sounds of hammers,
lawn mowers, chain saws.

Today I realized
the porch table’s umbrella
can twirl in the wind!

Sometimes you just pick
at a haiku again and
it falls into place!

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