Backyard Haiku Week #4

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.

Everyone’s worried

About ice on the roads, but

I plan to stay home

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Seeing lots of green

on this dark and dreary day

Eagles on the mind

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A small patch of sun

Makes us forget for a time

The looming darkness

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At the garden’s edge

Golden rod glows a color

Worthy of its name

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There’s nothing quite like

The soundless sound of new snow

Falling in the night

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A Wyeth painting

Dropped into my yard today -

Pennsylvania hues.

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Trapped under the snow,

The stoic armadillo

Hopes I’ve brought my broom

Backyard Haiku Week #3

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.

February comes -

Rain knocking on the window

Whispering of spring.

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The fox’s bright coat

Brings color to my garden -

Early morning treat!

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Yesterday’s bird fest

Is over and the robins

Have gone somewhere else

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Where are the screech owls?

The new house waits patiently

To welcome them home.

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Am I just fiddling

While I watch my country burn?

Don’t know what to do.

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Sun turns wings to gold

As the flock descends to feed

Just before the rain

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The rain turns to ice

And suddenly the whole yard

Shimmers in the light

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Backyard Haiku Week #2

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.

The icicle melts -

A prism’s brilliant life

Cut short by the sun

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The foxes courted

In the gray dusk, not caring

That we could see them

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The cat abandons

Her obsession with birds to

Watch me cross the yard

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Sunny haikus feel

Indulgent when darkness looms

Just beyond the gate

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The mulch and wagon -

Unlike me - wait patiently

For sunshine and spring

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The wind rattles and

Shouts like it’s aiming to bring

Great oaks to their knees

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I love the feeling

Of the cold drafts receding

As the fire is lit