Haiku Wednesday

My thanks to the indefatigable Don Wentworth for publishing one of my favorites, together with a fine one by Roberta Beary. 

Offering

At last, the long-awaited cleansing downpour, 

Tomorrow, a promise of more—even now 

As I write this, I can see the ancient silver- 

Green trees with their branches extended. 

Crow's Foot

edge 

         of the meadow, the small 

tracks 

                there, 

a stream 

                beginning 

to branch. 


(Opening poem from Sentences, 1976)

Finally, A Clear-cut Definition

Beauty?  

I ain’t stumped but

Don’t tell this old logger

It’s in the eyes

Of the beholder—

I can’t see

No forest or no trees.

Drunk Again

What can a poor lush do 

When pouring out his heart 

To the wine-dark sea 

But hold—steady as she goes— 

His foul breath in.