John J. Dunphy

time on my hands

I gather up sand from

a broken hourglass

— John J. Dunphy

at 71

all drugs I do

prescribed by doctors

—John J. Dunphy

Federico C. Peralta

 insomnia—

   unfinished haiku

      in the head

—Federico C. Peralta

dawn flowers—

the changing scent of

     grandpa's tea

—Federico C. Peralta

Joe Wells

eucharist

forcing my confession—

harvest moon

—Joe Wells

toddler's stone 

on the pond 

the broken sky 

—Joe Wells

Adrian Bouter

every thought

softer than the previous one...

           dandelion fluff

—Adrian Bouter

radio song  tears hide in my hanky

—Adrian Bouter

Mona Bedi

daily horoscope

how I wish

life was perfect

—Mona Bedi

Bryan Rickert

 berry’s blushing

in the bramble

lover’s moon

—Bryan Rickert

noon heat

minnows rest

in my shadow

—Bryan Rickert

pausing

after my sneeze

the cardinal’s song

—Bryan Rickert

out of the tree line

and over the field

a hawk’s cry

—Bryan Rickert

Manasa Reddy Chichili

mom's smile 

autumn bucket 

keeps filling

—Manasa Reddy Chichili 

Alvin B. Cruz

summer’s end

written in the sand:

I was here

—Alvin B. Cruz

abandoned garden

all that remains

a laughing Buddha

—Alvin B. Cruz

making the most of almost winter rose

—Alvin B. Cruz

Tony Williams

hot, humid day…

how can butterflies

be bothered

—Tony Williams

curling up in bed

the cold bits

of me

—Tony Williams

Milan Rajkumar

falling jasmines

across the silent valley ...

another year of war

—Milan Rajkumar 

Randy Brooks

church dinner

for family and friends

ghost stories

—Randy Brooks

Eugeniusz Zacharski

stork’s arrival

the hotel

returns to life

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

barefoot

on the stubble field –

the scarecrow

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

Fatma Zohra Habis

almond blossoms—

light clings at dawn

to mother’s apron

—Fatma Zohra Habis

Robert Witmer

a new bell

on an old bike

all downhill from here

—Robert Witmer

Mark Hendrickson

food truck

I know you're not good for me

but I still come back

—Mark Hendrickson

 

cotton candy

stories are better the way

grandma spins them

—Mark Hendrickson

Thompson Emate

above the stars

beyond a dream

mama’s songs

—Thompson Emate

Dicots, a haibun by Alex Drogin

The third time we saw each other the road was cut with tire tracks through the snow. We walked along either side of one, making sure to get our shoes a little wet and our feet a little cold. We would warm up at the party and sweat through our sweaters and by the end of the night the tracks had been blanketed over again. We retraced our steps back to your house, shoes wet, feet cold, warming up inside. You stopped at the hood of a car on the way and doused me with powder: I would have frozen, if the blood hadn't rushed to my cheeks. At your front door you brushed the remaining sleet out of my hair. It didn't snow so gently again all winter.

daffodil trumpets

waiting out the silence

of snowmelt

Barbara Feehrer

lakeside concert

the all-day song

of a red-eyed vireo

—Barbara Feehrer

Boryana Boteva

the happy face of my kid

on the swing

lilac evening

—Boryana Boteva

Nicoletta Ignatti

Gaza moon -

the children's bowls

full of tears

—Nicoletta Ignatti

Mark Forrester

a butterfly's

uneven wings

lantana blossom

—Mark Forrester

blue sheen

on the drifting snow

a raven’s shadow

—Mark Forrester

Pitt Büerken

canoe tour

on the rivolet

we look

against the shore

all the time

—Pitt Büerken

Ruth Holzer

even in the snow those blue tents of the homeless

—Ruth Holzer

Jerome Berglund

monday morning 

taking inventory 

at the liquor store 

—Jerome Berglund

Meagan Bussert

due date today

she folds and refolds

the new nappy

—Meagan Bussert