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Quietly filling
 deep cups of the red blossoms.
 The morning sunrise.

 The rock bowl is full.
 Filled by the rain for the birds
 and for my quiet mind.

 Dried stalks of rhubarb
 turn brittle in the summer.
 Born again next year.

 The sparrows come back
 to say thank you for their home
 I lovingly made.

 My red dogs eyes gleam.
 Before eating, her eyes ask
 is it OK Dad?


 HAIKU; MEMORIES AND OBSERVATIONS and EXERCISES


 Archery
 The strong bowstring sings.
 My arrow will find its home
 I turn to sip tea.

 First Love
 How reluctantly
 the shy, young man moves forward
 toward the full, red lips.

 First

 In the maiden’s bed
 He found his heaven and hell.
 Such was his first love.


 Alone

 Small favor to ask.
 Please spread my ashes on the sea.
 No wife, no roommate.


 Who is Buddah

 She poured my green tea
 Until the cup ran over.
 Now, I know Buddah.



 Memory

 Cousin Roni was loud.
 Married a Samoan man.
 They both ate roast pig.



 Memory 

 My old friend, Bucky.
 Carried a gun in his boot.
 Afraid of himself.



 Old Friend

 Alvin slapped his first wife
 and then he married a man.
 I don’t know him now.


 Exercise I


 Diagonally
 he crosses the wide, busy street,
 to catch up with love.


 Exercise II

 Vociferously,
 she announces her mistrust.
 Not Republican.


 Exercise III

 She knew the problem.
 Incompatibility.
 He had to learn it.


 All his writing was
 autobiographical.
 He was egocentric.


 SEASONS

 The autumn raging
 I am blinded by red leaves.
 Too many to count.


 Surf crashes fiercely.
 Shadows lessen, skies turn gray.
 Winter storm moves near us.

 This Spring, my house burned.
 I now have a better view
 of the blue mountains.

 Fresh ink on blue lines
 the words come like hungry bees
 to form my Haiku.


 Synch

 Summer. I feel strong.
 Equal to birds in the tree,
 and pebbles near feet.
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