#DailyHaikuPrompt #yellow autumn storm... a single yellow leaf on the aspen tree

a mended quilt stretches across the grass end of summer we see the subtle beauty in all the many patches #tanka #TankaThursday

this wind’s moving in hefting the hearts of the trees come holy spirit

shaving in the mirror no face in sight only an old rock pile

blue winter sky sorting through baby clothes at the second hand store

last of the daylight falling to our hands like ash tiny white ghost-moths

dark comes earlier the little boat of the moon capsized in the clouds

squirrel each limb a little crooked road

gathering  stones the river before me clear, cold

under your tree let me sweep the blossoms again when I come back —Issa

who could I get to read such a small poem? it ripples around my quiet mind soundless as a snowflake

Out today at 5-7-5 Haiku Journal edited by DJ Tyrer: undulating road an approaching limousine in and out of sight #haiku #death Link: 575haikujournal.wordpress.com/2025/09/15/h...

gray days along the seawall— this chronic ocean sound

she sings in the rain with the naked voice of a bird

I always wondered who planted them in the neighboring field, a double row of yellow daffodils, up each spring, winding toward nothing, as if arriving at an invisible porch, invisible house. voices echoing deep in woods lives we might have lived

a slither of moon over the empty grass-husks small moths spiralling

walking late night past the railroad switch yard the sweet scent of grain…

#art Fresnatic #haiku #micropoem #resist

cocoon song inside my room... waiting for the crescendo to open my wings #tanka #TankaThursday

the burnt barn’s rafters lift the sun above the field this city of light

Japanese Tea Garden rain dripping— we sip green tea and pull our futures out of broken cookies

even the busiest sparrow pauses on the fence~ cool summer rain #haiku

One of my #haiga at @haikufound.bsky.social under the arches an orchestra of beer cans left in the rain More here: thehaikufoundation.org/thf-haiga-ga... #haiku #beer

bare arms warm from the sun~ the rain so cool #haiku

Alone is alone, it would seem. But in this late September light, I notice how its richness at once makes me more mindful of my own solitude. red oak leaves shaking in the wind as do their shadow

so easily it rose but now it hesitates, the moon in clouds Basho

up in the birch tree the pigeons’ gentle scolding darkening to dusk

scent of lime blossom this humid summer evening distance blurs the moon

humming birds around the feeder— the blur of summer weeks

dry buckled bed of the river signatures of water

web-bound butterfly the tiny pulses of air almost reaching me

somewhere in that dense snarl of trees we had a home the warm golden sun rays touching our front step

last light under clouds helplessly beating its wings the moon’s a white moth

little blue tail feather of a jay— all that’s left in the nest

sunny morning~ a glass vase catches my reflection, smiling #haiku

fireflies lifting from glass at twilight tiny lamps dispersing, a song across the water

sound of longing — on the rooftop torrent of rain #haiku

older age has arrived a field full of purple thistles

slipping into father’s worn flannel shirt— shadow and light chill autumn air & time

The dead creatures, I sometimes find; present a question, I fail to answer. At times I, build tombs of twigs and rocks; other times I, just bow my head and go. Either way, inadequacy heavies my heart; how could I give them, what they need? #sijo

seeing into the future— everything that was in Grandma’s alligator purse

the thump of another lemon dropping— sunbreak (previously published in Cattails) #haiku #micropoetry #poetry

nearly june another season drifts beyond my reach #inkmine #reach

clear green water braiding under river stones an extra deep breath

spring planting– I press my bare foot squarely in the tractor tire’s wide dirt print

asserting itself in the white space between leaves a cinnabar moth

Forest leaves, weave a green trance; I see the world, again for the first time. The wind’s touch, carries a message; waiting for a mind, to know it aloud. The gray sky, watches as I stumble; unworthy prophet, of woodland truths. #sijo

in an ink-black room I read stories by torchlight a quilt in my lap this wish to suspend time at least for a year or two #NaTankaMo #MayTanka

a village grown old, no house without a persimmon tree —Basho