pink cherry blossoms against a blue and white sky — visibility

sun slowly slipping
blinding as I drive towards
the edge of the world

we send each other
photos of the night sky —
the place where we meet

showing through
my tracing paper heart —
the shape of the ache

when our son was nine
his favorite shirt was too big —
he grew into it

with a few quick steps
the fox puts us in our place —
we are merely guests

rain slows to a drip
so the cardinals start up again —
staking their claims

across the window
a ladybug's tiny steps —
who else is awake?

winter receding —
ice leaves behind a new crop
of field stones

you can look to me
when you lose sight of yourself —
I will remember

dark night offers up
broken necklaces of stars —
we each restring some

cardamom cake —
we fold in the baking tips
your mother used to share

red-winged blackbirds
and their raspy-throated calls —
spring hits snooze again

under the ice

tumbling down the hillside —

sound becoming spring

 

Friends, today is my #haikuversary! 

(I have been posting at least one haiku I can stand to share here every day for TEN YEARS.) (!)

In celebration, I hereby invite you to join me in celebrating the art of haiku.

Here are some ways that you might decide to join in the fun. (Put whatever you decide to share either here in the comments or over on Twitter, where I am @butwait. I was traveling most of the day today, so we can push this all to tomorrow, no rush.)

• Poke around in the archives, find a favorite, and share it! Bonus points if you tell me why you like it. (But sometimes it's hard to say why, so no pressure.)
• Find a photo that you think pairs well with one of my haiku, and either tell me about it or create a haiga (image + haiku, e.g. this one)!
• Pick a date that is meaningful to you - just the date, not the year - and let me share a haiku I wrote on that date. Bonus points - again, no pressure! - if you tell me why the date is significant to you.
• Send me a word that you'd like to see me try to incorporate into a haiku (no promises!)
• Tell me about a moment that seemed "haiku-worthy" to you, but that you haven't quite managed to capture in the way you were hoping to
• Share a haiku of your own! (And don't worry too much about the whole 5-7-5 thing.)
• Tell me about your haiku reading practice! Do you come here and read mine, or do you only read them on Twitter? Who else writes haiku that you enjoy?
• Got any other ideas? In the past I've had a few friends write a haiku in response to one of mine, which has been lovely and thrilling.

Thank you for considering dedicating some of your time and energy to helping me celebrate this small thing amidst everything big and scary that's going on right now.

snowy fields stubbled
with the stalks of last year's crop —
tractors still in barns

hold the kite up high
and I'll get ready to run —
touching the sky

hard frost warning —
we wonder how to explain
this to the tulips

mid-morning squall  —
for one thrilling moment we're 
inside the snow globe

a hole in the sky,
dampened feathers underfoot —
a hawk came calling

sunrise reminder
that the deer were here first —
headless stalk garden

we can almost see
the view from their first walkup —
grandmother's stories

each wave carrying
the unfolding gift of self —
its removal, too

sunny March mornings —
time to remember
the word for crocus

the sound of wings
followed by my sudden gasp —
mutual surprise

windchill factor —
listening to the gale as we
reach for more blankets

purple dusk falling —
the mourning dove and I 
have a little talk

snowdrops pushing up
through the leaves from last fall —
more light every day

how amazed we were!
in the car ride home from camp
mom knew the songs already

storm clouds obscuring
stars and the stories they tell —
we call it a night

hands gone dry
from a winter of slipping
in and out of gloves

every tiny bud
wrapped in bristling ice —
can we afford hope?