Backyard Haiku Week #8

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.

Oh, the sun is out

And the wind has finally stopped.

Welcome day of rest.

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Hope springs eternal,

So they say. And I, for one,

Cannot wait for spring.

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First groundhog spotted

Across the yard, still wearing

His thick winter coat

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Yesterday just one.

Today, dozens of crocus

Line the road and yard

Beneath tangled logs

At garden’s edge, the fox is

waiting to give birth

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Dull sky and good sleep

Prevented me from watching

The blood moon eclipse

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In last year’s nest are

Tiny, delicate feathers

From chicks gone and grown.

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Backyard Haiku Week #7

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.

The temperature

Keeps shifting warm then colder.

My mood changes, too.

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Hellebores peek out,

Wondering if it’s safe to

Call this weather spring.




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Lost friends and allies,

Crippling tariffs, data leaks…

Are we winning yet?

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Robins seem to know

That warm fronts will bring rain, and

Rain will bring them worms

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The wind and the rain -

What lessons can they teach me?

Take a breath and wait

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Our sick old ash tree

still resists a mighty wind -

Maybe I can too.

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Such woodland magic -

The lovely snow drops open

For the birthday boy

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Backyard Haiku Week #6

My goal is to write one haiku per day this year, starting on the day before the inauguration. It is meant to be both inspiration and distraction. We’ll see how long it lasts.


We know cats are great
But the grandsons who love them
Are even greater.

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Minnesota is,
Of course, the place to go for
Oysters served on ice.

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This is a family:
Different paths and patterns,
Fed by common roots.

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When viewed from above,
This country we love looks so small,
And vulnerable

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That old Christmas tree
We pushed out the window? It’s
Now a home for birds

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A white, bright fungus
Begins its slow consumption
Of the fallen tree

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I cannot think of
Gardens or spring when there are
Despots on the loose.

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