Poetry

Haiku 28

Jonno Witts via Compfight cc
Jonno Witts via Compfight cc

The downtown beggar
died last week; a reminder
to cherish mint leaves.

Regular waves in
successive spikes, a thin stream
ending at the drain.

Car horn from below,
“Shave and a haircut, six bits,”
staccato, then out.

Light at my old work
goes out, the very instant
my night bus rolls past.

3:05 pm,
crescent moon, halfway hidden,
scudding eastward clouds.

Spring blossoms fallen,
lone crow stabs at prickly fruit
flies away uphill

But what of dust mites
exhaling under my bed–
have they enough space?

Sprinter snaps the tape
but no crowd cheers victory;
drained, still stadium.

Set down on the rocks,
gutter runoff spills beachward
to salty mother.

I remember how
death is life, but it’s that “death”
heavy in this night.

He pays his extra
quarter and the bus whines, soft,
baby out of breath.

Black rooster, red comb
beak high–how he must adore
the thick-limbed maple

Live cat on his back
humped dead possum for a hat,
making friends downtown

Cherry blossom storm
pink blots in a circle dance,
stalled green truck.

Unwritten haiku,
I have stalked you through downtown…
then the sun came out.