Five Farm Haiku

gleaming steel
plow blade turns the dirt, but
dirt taxes the blade

 

a weed pulled
in due time, beats one hundred
plucked too late

 

stalk stubble,
the haggard mourning face
of the field

 

mile high crazy quilt
viewed by climbing passengers,
brooding nature’s mood

 

when light is short,
but field days are marathon
harvest gloom

5 Haiku on Emptiness

white space,
where readers’ eyes go to
rewrite stories


when thoughts cease,
senseless pictures form;
minds abhor stillness


Plato’s pupil knew:
“nature abhors a vacuum,”
if not much else


the fog wall,
flush with the land’s end,
invites guesses


endless dunes,
stretching far as eyes can see
yet never the same

Nepal Haiku

birthing Buddha,
distant looming mountains
breed wisdom

 

glassy lake,
mirroring boat hulls,
a world below?

 

standing aside
as beam-totting porters
pass us on the trail

 

tea-house quarters
cozy and quaint lodging,
’til snoring starts

 

cool air in face,
trudging up — oblivious
to cloud-freed snowcap

 

glacier gone,
scoured trench, gouged in earth —
maybe next year

 

monkey overlook,
from sacred stupa to
the human warren

 

5 Haiku on Silence


harsh silence,
lost beats steal word’s
authenticity

 

silent snows
seen through crossed muntins,
drifting eerily

 

fog resting on
Coconut Grove’s soil until
chased by dawn’s din

 

ridge rows,
in waning shades of gray
end in white void

 

creek burbles
hushed to unheard drips
from icicles

Desolate Snow Haiku

boot crunch
‘a cloudless night,’
he concluded

 

old coat of snow
nary a track in sight
beauty abandoned

 

snow blind
trudging and slogging
pure torture

 

crust of snow
over dry powder
bone cold

 

drifting flakes
add a wedge wall
to a farmhouse

India Haiku


Srinagar,
drifting on Dal Lake,
mirror of mountains



blossomed branch bobs,
twisting on wind as a bee
hovers, seeking sync



hill station hut
rain trounces the ground
lulling reveries



monkeys grooming
in a triangle, and I wonder
will they turn on 3?



from Shimla town
summer leaves hide the giant
orange overseer



Varanasi Haiku

Sacred Ganga,
Welcome to our city.
What gifts you’ll take.

 

Narrow warren,
lanes lined with bright-hued goods,
bangle blind and lost.

 

Cattle herd
roams the parched mudflat,
kicking up dust.

 

A golden bridge
visits each morning, and
exits silently.

 

Wood stackers
endlessly working
the burning ghats.

Urban Wildlife Haiku

crowded skies,
circling raptors weave
invisible baskets.



little chipmunk,
screeching relentlessly,
stop! all are warned.



rat slinks away
as cat creeps near,
despite edge in size.




popsicle monkey,
crowd coos, “Cute copy-cat,”
idly stuffing faces.



Mumbai leopards?
Hollywood mountain lions?
cats seeking parts?

Lake Haiku

alpine lake,
depth a guarded secret,
mirroring mountain




ships sit
on your sandy bottom,
yet, you’re called “lake”



in sunlight
your glistening canvas,
a bowl of diamonds



winter ice cracks
with steel cable song,
sending shudders



barren pine
beside mud-rimmed lake,
heeding drought

Monsoon Haiku

outside? muggy;
from inside: gray skies look
like Viennese winter

 

cool mornings,
after a rainy night,
soothe the spirit

 

the guard shack,
topped by a wading pool
only I can see

 

rain song
absorbs harsh sounds,
hushing the city

 

trust old people
with umbrellas more than
the blue in the sky