Zen Haiku

Poem 5562

pinging
to its dances of hail
our old tin roof

hibiscus scents
on a Sunday afternoon
the thin white clouds

high moon
only the geese honk of it
a fog filling the lake

clouds in a breeze
the moon
tattoos the sea

high moon
with the pond frogs bloated
now they fight

the sundial records—
the lightning bolts
back to the night

sipping the river
a horse on guard
one at a time

eucalypts
passing the lightning
to where we stand

dart of light
a firefly circles
the frog-pond mist

high moon
the motel cabins
speared with frost