Zen Haiku

Poem 831

whispering your name
in the hay loft
a cigarette flares.

office meeting
memories of a holiday
on the sands of a beach.

all night poker …
for his drive home
street lights in drizzle

winter wood shed
a mother cat’s
mountain-lion hiss

a grey breeze
the Tulip cups
spilling some drizzle

chopping winter wood
a butterfly
stops my axe

warmed by stars
the owl’s a mind
of mice holes

this sky-pressed sea
is a safe place for my bones
with waves to move in

picnic with Laurel
our hands stop reaching
for the same small cake

summer-sweet salads
out of father’s garden
our sliced tomatoes