Here we go again. Responses in haiku are most welcome.
Amid the autumn reds
an oak tree clings
to summer
Friday haiku 2
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Author Archives: Mikels Skele
Friday haiku
I’m starting something new — Friday haiku. I hope you respond in the comments with haiku as well. No judgment, just fun.
Red-tail hawk,
lord of earth and sky —
who invited these crows?
Point
Do we comprehend reality?
That, finally, all we are
are faults in time, enough to pause
the relentless entropic urge,
but never to stop it?
All humanity has imagined
that it alone was the point,
all those nameless, greaseless corpses,
a poverty of sand and wind.
Who ever remembers them?
We have our own issues,
our own duty,
to create a universe
to be forgotten in its turn.
Haiku for a Tuesday morning
Red-shouldered hawks are the only ones who call continuously while hunting. Very sporting, I thought.
Daybreak
A pair of hawks
announce the sun
Mackinac Bridge
In the center lanes, your tires
whine against the taut steel grid,
five miles of heartache
standing in for gray tarmac,
which knows nothing of music,
and so, stays mute.
In the center, in the heart, you can hear
ballads of the iron workers
who laid the steel across wind-warned
waves, whitecaps straining to reach them,
to pull them down among the generations
of sailing men and women, who,
heedless of candled windows and
widow’s walks,
never came home.
“You belong to me,“ sang the lake,
“you who know no bounds
but sky and steel. I will be your bed,
your limit, your last true lover.
Come to me.”
And they did,
and the bridge, knowing this better
than all the histories of men,
sings with the voices of ghosts
wrung from the iron waves.
exiles child 