Misting melting day— the great maple still standing leafless in the yard.
Just a small stylistic note on the poem below—it is also a haiku. Much has been made of the 5-7-5 syllable/line structure, however some of my favorite haiku in English and translation are actually broken into two lines that retain the same overall count of 17 syllables, but put a greater emphasis on the kireji, which is the cutting word or punctuation that serves to connect the different ideas being expressed in the poem.
--- Single corn kernel on the pantry floor— does it too long for the soil?
Baby bok choi bent, stalk cracked by my careless hands— I eat its sweet leaves.
Sandhill cranes— they're back, rattling the cold sky.
Under snow, clinging to crisped flowers—coming year's seeds, sleeping buddhas. --- Waiting for the cold hold to release—next year's seeds, sleeping buddhas.
Crystal light lengthens— my husband's crescent saw lops the sick tree's dead wood.
Snow shadow bound—tentatively the grass greens.
These next two haiku were written after watching the movie True Lies.
--- Nuclear explosions, spouses lying, gunning hero— movies teach lessons. --- Black lingerie, thin woman dancing for a man— a girl is watching.
Gentle, placid, a viridian file cabinet holds papers, coffee.
I usually have a Mary Oliverian take on the natural world, but occasionally a more practical side of me takes hold, as below.
--- That bastard squirrel is chewing on my door frame again this morning.
Gravel's grumble—trash rolling out, robins sharing a tonic song of spring. --- Rolling garbage out— robin's orange tonic spring song, gravel's grey grumble.