Haiku 5

sweeping from the south

fat raindrops mottle my shirt

a burst of cold breeze

500 year storm

flood water rising

eating at the riverbanks

large bites of the shore

old pathways for all crumble

forcing change on everyone

Haiku 4.29

stormy percussion

rimshots against the window

thunder’s low bass drum

how we communicate

This must be how it feels
to the tree alone
in the forest,
only the breeze to stroke
her leafy green hair,

to have limbs
rattle and shake,
as she bends or breaks
in the midst of the storm,
broken bits piled in heaps
or scattered
across the lawn,

to fall
and have no one
acknowledge the sound.

rain tanka

dripping from the eaves
remnants of thunderous storm
in the bathroom sink
leaky faucet echoing
reminders of nature’s power