last spring he walked
north at the rate
of the season

fingernail moon
over a rolling fog —
stay up late with me

this afternoon breeze
turning petals like pages —
crocus blossoms

daffodils
shivering accusingly
in late morning snow

all summer long
we used hotdogs for bait
caught those same five perch

dawn chorus —
before the weight of the war
returns to my chest

summer moon
slipping through 
our tattered nets

in dancing
our favorite moment comes
just before the dip

alongside each other

trees silently grow a plan

for sharing sunlight

 

how sweet it feels 
to imagine the singer —
listening to birdsong

were there this many
on the first warm day last year?
purple crocuses

from muddy pockets
the songs of tiny peepers
rise above the marsh

pushing up right through
the dried shell of last winter —
green beginnings

braiding together
as they run down the hill —
streams and sorrows

 

Wanna play?

Friends, today is my #haikuversary! 

(I have been posting at least one haiku I can stand to share here every day for NINE 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'll be traveling some today, but will definitely check in before day's end.)

• 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.

forsythia blooms
opening with a sigh —
we could, too

warm spring sunshine —
even the scolding squirrels
take a little break

how many people
is too many to arrest?
late-night protest math

snap icicles off
and put them in the freezer —
protect your winter

rain turning to sleet —
we look for spring amidst sounds
of scraping ice

when it snows again
I'll still be right here waiting —
follow the fence line

over and over —
each white throated sparrow sings
I was here first

longing for spring —
the way moss seems to want
to briefly hold my hand

along the roadside
echoes of small decisions —
worn shoes, empty bottles

snow in the forecast —
I find a bird's white egg shell
in the just-grown grass

these warm days won't stay
but should we tell the lilacs?
(they already know)

March in the garden —
we take turns pointing out
the earliest shoots

the official story
wants to skip a chapter —
we write trans kids in

we watch each other
to our vanishing points —
new spring moon

new calendar page —
I fill every empty square
with her name