Friday haiku 110

On the horizon
The day after Thanksgiving
A lone wild turkey

Friday haiku 108

The last living leaves
Put their affairs in order
And jump into Fall

Friday haiku 103

The air had an edge
Like a wind blowing over
The last of us all

False idylls

Ah, we say, what a life!
and yet …

We are the heirs of discontent
we carry all colors among us
to their inevitable conclusion

Our eyes are rising swiftly
under an aging sun

What nourished our forebears
we find merely annoying
All those Bible Prophets mute
as sacks of sand

To build dikes against
a flood which never comes
and yet …

here we stand
precisely in their footpads

Friday haiku 102

Sitting at the changing tide
Beside the ancient harbor
Waves already lapping our feet