an'ya, US

skipping along
an empty desert highway—
the tumbleweed



on a hunch
turning on the porchlight—
first snowflakes



Gerry Bravi, CA

a thrush sings
the message loud and clear
without words



in a rippled sky
the splash of primary colors
water at evening



bright autumn day
pen in hand I wonder
what to leave out



no words come
I set out to find something
and missed what was



what dreams await
beyond despair



shadows fall
another strip of sun
slips away



late November
old leaves touching
new snow



a heron fishing
does he sense something where I
perceive nothing



joggers on the path
do more than their shadows
chase them



 Elizabeth Howard

breakfast path
the snap, crackle, pop
of frosted grass


clear and cold
contrails in the sky
paths in the snow


music homework
three beginners
contrary horns


power lines down
I light the old camp stove
for evening tea


drenched meadow
a herd of pintos splashes
through golden flowers


bars on the sun
trellis icicles



Karina Klesko, US

my heart
with a need to be fulfilled
the path of this river



new moon
         i longed for you and we slept
                                together till dawn



conch shell
comforting & cool



shattered glass
gazing through the space
where a window used to be



Andreas Gripp, CA

flurries at night
flakes glitter
with the stars



blizzard’s wind
pushing drifts
shifting landscape



Rita Odeh, IL

oh, Issa, pour me—
some fresh metaphor
from your cup

on top of Fuji
i am nothing but
an ant

being a sponge,
I absorb the seawater
as well as its salt

lilies turn yellow
my love to lilies
stays green

through the mist,
nobody is coming...
an empty nest

poor little louse
living in the mess
of my oily hair

the hot kettle—
is busy looking for—
the water

hand in hand,
we'll climb Mount Fugi—
in tomorrow's dream

the more climbing up—
the less struggle with
the falling rock

climbing up,
towards the dragon's mouth—
an ant

sleepy cat,
giving a great yawn—
to the passing—by rat

one fly,
just one, in my morning—
cup of coffee

a sudden shower,
the cow is seeking refuge
behind the scarecrow

first rainbow—
a crow arguing with
a sparrow

wagging her tail—
finally, the cricket
is under control

oh, Issa:
forty years old, yet, my blood type
is still B*

* B is a rare blood type in Japan.
It carries a sense of melancholy.



John Daleiden, US

lion and lamb
lie down beside each other—
the stuff of dreams



without their voices
these geese would be lost
snow after dawn



new snow fall—
the smell of  liniment oil
beside a log fire


deer tracks
in the new snow--
Rudolf, my son says.



Shanna Baldwin Moore, US

colors from the deep
swirl in a sunbeam
sparkle of plankton


turtle dreams....
catching the undertow
of winter waves


after the storm
driftglass and seashells
along the tide line


sound of seagulls
in my memories
rusty swings



Vaughn Seward, CA

late afternoon...
snow clouds over
fields of stubble

night time—
in silence a layer of snow

a leaf occupies
its own depression...
snow bank



Terra Martin, CA

shadows the footsteps
left behind



Read the winning Haiku for the December Hunt Kukai

Read the Editor's Choice Haiku for the December
"outerwear" thread



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