Zen Haiku

Poem 5602

sometime between the quakes
the cheval mirror
cracked to mirrors

the peach trees sweeten
in the far dripping fog
the shapes of silence

grandma’s garden
our shadows moving
to touch and talk

too young to fruit
the apple trees hanging out
with old Jack Frost

window corner
the spider’s young
rainbows with dew

the praying Mantis
so stiff
in its praise to dawn

potter’s wheel
spinning the earth
from clay to vase

turning my eyes
to rainbows…
dew on the apple buds

the snow’s turning
of our back yard
— the bare branches

flitting butterfly
so many roses to tour
Sunday afternoon