Haikus 02/24/2011

 Mirror
my face where I left it.
 Ten thousand colors
in her plain brown hair-
morning sunshine.
 How come
whatshisname
never speaks to me.
 I hear her sew
I hear the rain
I turn a page.
 The stillness of dawn:
crashing between the branches,
a solitary leaf.
 Coffee
in a paper cup-
a long way from home.
 In the lightning flash-
through the night rain- I saw it!
… whatever it was.
 Home from a journey,
my reflection in the glass
on the front door
 Breakfast enjoyed
in the fine company of
morning glories
 I’m a wanderer
so let that be my name
the first winter rain
 With a runny nose
sitting alone at the Go board,
a long cold night
 The night sky
thoughts drifting
to galaxies far far away.
 Heavy night rain --
reading poems on the floor
the lamplight flickers.
 Midnight quiet,
my computer hums,
laughter next door.
 Percolating coffee
the smell of midnight
conversation
 One a.m.
the headphones I’m wearing
have gone silent
 My dear old village,
every memory of home
pierces like a thorn
 I begin each day
with breakfast greens and tea
and morning glories
 I kill an ant
and realize my three children
have been watching.
 Night, and the moon!
My neighbor, playing on his flute -
out of tune!
 First autumn morning:
the mirror I stare into
shows my father's face.
 Birds gliding up high
I want to fly free with them
But I’m stuck down here.
 Subway woman asleep
picked daisies
in her hand.
 “Demerits,
use them wisely”, says
Leah’s dad.
 Reunion:
a pause
before each hug.
 Light spring rain
the sound of an airplane
circling above the clouds.
 Morning meadow-
a wren follows
the sunshine in.
 What was I thinking?
toes suddenly cool
in river clay.
 Wind:
the long hairs
on my neck.
 Home for Christmas:
my childhood desk drawer
empty.
 Grocery shopping-
pushing my cart faster
through feminine protection.
 Reading in bed
my pulse flickering
the lightly held bookmark.
 The blues singer
tells how bad it is
then the sax tells you too.
 After gazing at stars…
now, I adjust to the ricks
under my sleeping bag.
 Mental hospital my shadow stays outside.
 At the edge of the precipice I become logical.
 Sunrise:
I forget my side
of the argument.
 Alone at last
I wonder where
everyone is.
 300 miles away-
my father makes sure
I hear him sigh.
 Trying to forget him
stabbing
the potatoes.
 Lying-
I tell him I’m not looking
for a prince.
 Empty mailbox
I pick wildflowers
on my way back.
 The library book
overdue-
slow falling snow.
