8 Haikus

8 Haikus Hands folded in my lap like dying birds I wave and they fly again Feet tap like nervous hens pecking for crumbs I have nothing to feed them My heart pounds like the neighbor on the wall I cannot wish it away I try to write about beauty Black marks on paper That is the truth The Republican’s convention— misguided visions of the future The summer’s end some early leaves are falling Trying to beat the rush The delegates cheer in funny hats Their loud garments can raise the dead Indian Summer I can still swim but i swim with yellow leaves