Poetry

Ten Haiku

Gary Hotham

 

plain darkness—

a firefly blinks with

the speed of light

 

drifting into grass—

a child’s bubble

the air didn’t burst

 

turning over shells—

one new wave

after the other

 

pigeons between parked cars—

the street named for

an old queen

 

return visit—

tall grass in my footsteps

doesn’t spring back

 

a wider view of the mountains—

Dad’s grave not far from

when he was born

 

steady morning wind—

lottery tickets on top

of the trash

 

lingering visit—

the hidden mountaintop

next time

 

visits end—

the mountain top only the host

has seen

 

near the museum—

children racing

the lawn sprinkler