14 November 2020 (hawk)

burnished fields

a red-tailed hawk hovers

between seasons

13 November 2020 (sheets)

snow showers

sheets on the bed

still warm from the dryer

12 November 2020 (junco)

early dark

a junco under the feeder

turns to shadow

11 November 2020 (oak)

memory work

only the oak tree

retains its leaves

10 November 2020 (stone wall)

maple grove

an old stone wall

leads back

9 November 2020 (house sparrows)

hard frost

a hedgerow of house sparrows

carries on

8 November 2020 (radio)

Indian summer

a neighbor’s radio

running down a dream

7 November 2020 (meditation)

morning meditation

holding very still

to watch the feeder birds

6 November 2020 (warm)

warm spell

a yellow leaf levitates

in the blue sky

5 November 2020 (dream)

I think about haiku so much that sometimes I even dream them. A couple mornings ago I woke up with this haiku in my head. I can’t make any sense of it, but I’m kind of intrigued by it nonetheless. Feel free to share your analysis with me!

swamp candles. . .

a miscarriage

of justice

(A “swamp candle” is a yellow loosestrife, a fairly common Maine wildflower.)

4 November 2020 (election)

election night

the free world saved one more time

by James Bond