Early Spring Haiku

Apr 05, 2026

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Looks like a box, sounds
like a spring morning, holds with
life’s tiny motions.

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Me weeding. The dog
prowling in loose orbit. Both
busy, important.

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Piously, the leeks
arise swan-necked, folded, faces
still kissing the ground.

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The morning stillness
punctuated—wood pecker,
chimney cap drumming.

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This spring is too much
for verse. The tight bud cluster—
shallots, full of hope.

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In the farm’s driveway,
a duck stands in a pothole
filled with rain, singing.

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Each weekend
we gather into
one household.

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Allow me to move
with such slowness, to open and
close consistently.

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A boisterous wind
trying to steal the radish
seeds from my cupped palm.

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Waking up immersed—
sound of rain’s gentle drumming,
the world flushing green.

Selected Poems