Under the Bashō 2023
Haiku

unstrung sitar
summer river
pains me a lot

seine fishing
in open water
a lone sea turtle

taking back roads
the whole way there
autumn wind

my raincoat
your umbrella
two springs

thunderhead reshaping the murmuration

autumn solitude
the depths the river takes
my thoughts

heat wave
the record high
locust song

King Tides ...
all those lingering doubts
wash away

oceans apart
yet just a click away ...
my love in pixels

my beagle
slows its pace to mine ...
eviction notice

skylark disappears
leaving its song
in the wind

opening the door
to let the dog out
moon sneaks in

summer rain
dog washes its paws
in the grass

another year gone
dog calmer
me slower

cold city walk
dog growls at
mannequins

mujō –
my pale shadow
on the wall

great-grandma’s kitchen –
the sweet karkade tea
always brewing

blurred –
in the steamy mirror
your stolen glance

class reunion
the white-crowned sparrows
all talking at once

soaking up the sun ...
the orange seeds
in grandma's palm

border
on either side
the same birds

cemetery alley
so straight
the beginning of death

snow . . .
only clinking of spoons
in the kitchen

a passing shower…
I prepare the body
for viewing

final sunbeam—
time to say goodbye
to my shadow

belly dancer
a swirl of fragrance
as she passes

dusty barn
a spider drags a line
from the fishing rod

where the river
drops into thunder
waterfall

in the womb
of the forest
a cedar sapling

sunlight skims
the pond
a scatter of minnows

summer haze
the gentle sway
of filtered light

tern colony
mossy cliffs absorb
the racket

Mom’s old bean pot
the taste of a hundred
family meals

swept away
by your words
flood watch

snowflakes
not a breath of wind
moves them