milestone birthday —
I give my Bitmoji
bushier eyebrows

With today's post, I will have been writing and eventually posting at least one haiku I can stand to share every day for THIRTEEN YEARS. (!)

I would therefore like to invite y'all 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 Blue Sky, where I am, of course @butwait. I will be working today, but should be able to check back in here tonight.)

• 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! Where / when / how do you read haiku? Who 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.

 (Fear not, I didn't stop writing haiku, I'm just wayyyy behind in posting them here. Stay tuned, and go ahead and poke around in the back catalog in the meantime!)

long morning run
following my own trail of
nearly frozen breath

waiting to see
how you will appear again
now that you are gone

sleepy six point buck 
stumbling to his feet
in our front garden

we brought our raincoats
so we wouldn't need them
the last time we walked

(for Alison)

autumn sparrows
bravely coming close enough
to be told apart

the goal
is to feel
without coming apart

ht Kelly Hayes

https://organizingmythoughts.org/the-emergency-is-the-atmosphere/

awake at 2:10
my internal alarm
with no snooze setting

acorns underfoot —
every crunch another 
oak-tree-shaped hole

screech owl laughing —
we throw open our windows
chasing the sound

streets lined on both sides
with protesters and their signs —
today's traffic jam

all over town
sign-makers looking for
their thick black markers

spooky season —
my four year-old friend
wants a song with bones

fast-running fox —
the line of its trailing tail
an after-image

October canal —
capturing and reflecting
the leaves' brilliant hues

fallen leaves gone black
wet and slippery decay —
bringing in the news

tight little bundles —
the last zinnia buds
of the season

nor'easter coming —
the air holds all the rain
it possibly can

acorns underfoot
milkweed fluff in the air —
time to test the heat