Early Summer Haiku
20 poems from early summer, 2022
This poem was written during a power outage.
--- Lovely cool evening without electricity— candlelight and scotch.
After the party, contained in dark coolers—cold drinks, half-melted ice.
Rinsing the dishes through the old window—fireflies, glittering dusk.
Two attempts on the same theme:
--- Surrounded by weeds the gardener hasn’t yet plucked— dill fronds jeweled with dew. - Dill fronds jeweled with dew— similarly richly clad the neighboring weeds.
Perfect summer sun beyond the window—couch bound, the injured gardener.
Stretching bird netting over ripe red raspberries— one already gone.
Sweet peas, perfect pure green—cooked the summer day they woke on the vine.
This summer I began experiencing pain in what can only be described as my butt that was relatively severe. For years following this, many doctors and physical therapists would struggle to find the root cause of the issue, which eventually turned out to be hypertonic pelvic floor muscles. In the initial phases everyone (including me) assumed the problem was located in my lower back. I eventually had to give up the garden this summer and wouldn’t garden again for several years. Many poems that I wrote during this time period were inspired by this experience.
--- Injured gardener—weeds miraculously growing in the veggie beds. - Weeds in all the beds, injured gardener observing, miracle of growth.
Below are three attempts to capture an odd scene observed one morning in which a garter snake had somehow situated itself along the line dividing our stone foundation from the wooden siding cladding the house with its heading sticking out into the air. Whether or not the poems do it any justice, it seemed very pleased with itself.
--- Between foundation and siding, face of a garter. - Between foundation and siding, gargoyle garter snake, summer sunshine. - Garter snake gargoyle jutting out between siding and stone foundation.
Internal combustion— father and son agree on zipper merging.
Noon daylilies blaze orange against the farmhouse— open palms waving.
These next several poems were written during a summer trip up to Ludington, where we stayed in a beautiful rental house right on Lake Michigan, and Traverse City, where we toured many a winery and brewery.
--- Horizonless lake unbothered by the jet ski, the gull splashing down.
The still, placid years it took to make the fuel burned by those jet skies.
Great expanse of still gray water—just there, a patch glitters in sunlight.
Sipping chilled white wine, watching insecticide spray dust each rolling row.
People painting loons because they love them—for sale at the winery.