Untitled Gunsaku

Untitled poem Something about hummingbirds passing for haiku Sits in a notebook Pondered but then rejected Not enough spirit Is this poetry A sad echo of nature with no fulfillment Scratch out start over Find the clarity of truth Or why even try Metallic feathers Stop on a spinning dime edge Then rocket away One single sun beam Shines through a hole in the clouds poked by tiny bird Run to where it shone Face turned to where sun should be Thick blanket of clouds I can smell the rain Green mud on patches of breeze Squeezed from between grays Fate blended with choice Always good enough not great Willow only sighs What is this stillness Not even decent darkness Foggy almost art