Paiku

The only moving thing
Is the twisting scent
Of honeysuckle

In ear-high grass
A real head whistles up
A theoretical dog

 

The further I wade
Into summer
The smaller I get

Ten million buttercups
Stare at the clouds
Where the sun used to be

On the road west
Two gaudy caravans
And their monochrome horses

Found my moon:
A circle of rainwater
In a black plastic bucket

[written for Haiku Bandit's June 2009 Moon Viewing Party]

 

The hills bark
At the farm dogs
Barking at me

Poppies are
Poking scarlet tongues
At the meek, neat corn

Swifts
Wheel across
My black coffee mirror