An idea, not new by any means, but new for me — a haiku each day as the next season unfolds. I brought a haiku to my Yogurt Poets meeting last night, and was caught by the tight examination of words, the spareness that haiku demands, the strict attention. Several years ago, a colleague, struggling with the intensity and time suck of her job, started writing a haiku each day, as a way to be doing something creative, meditative, and not work each day. I’m feeling untethered lately from my poetic self, so this is a small step back towards that awareness. Here goes.
A stream of smoke curves
Over the slope of pasture
Hung in morning cold.
Grace Mattern 