HAIKU DIARY and sample from POEMS FOR YOU
2017 HAIKU DIARY week twelve
Lured out of hiding,
I fed the little leprechaun
green shamrock candy.
Kindle me away…
no bad news from world events,
only novel lives.
on amnesia; doctor says
likely no repeats.
Terror in London
Thoughts and prayers with the U.K.
Where’s my “good news” day?
duly celebrated in
short, three line poems.
and are thriving where last years’
annuals are gone.
Dreaming about spring
In Hawaii or Phoenix
While more rain comes down
SPRING, DAY ONE
This is what I saw—yesterday’s frost on roof shingles,
A silver-tipped spider web hanging from the mailbox,
And schoolchildren running, coat hoods flying,
On their way to the corner bus stop.
The morning sun, not seen for weeks,
Cast warming rays on the cement schoolyard.
Children playing tag paused to smile at the sky
And laugh while spring planted kisses on each cheek.
© Carolyn Caines
On Our Way Back
State Route 4 rolls out before us,
undulating in the sun with its black asphalt
two-lane winding path along the Columbia River.
It’s the shortest way home, up and over
the small summit called KM Mountain,
a mere 902 feet at its peak, prompting
a barely noticeable pop of the ears
as we sail up and over.
On the way home, Maila has put the top down
on her Mercedes and set her wide-brimmed pink hat
firmly on her head, her dark glasses in place,
and a knit cape across her lap. She tosses me
a blue hoodie, but it doesn’t quite fit the mood.
We could be in the scene from a movie
starring Doris Day or maybe Debbie Reynolds.
I feel it…though I have no filmy neck scarf
trailing dramatically behind me.
And who might this fine-looking young man be?
Rather resembles Cary Grant, I’d say.
Is he trying to flag us down as we pass by?
He doesn’t know who we are, hidden
behind dark glasses and sitting neck-deep
in the convertible’s bucket seats.
Alas, it is not for the glamourous presence
the two of us make as we sail by, but
a warning about a truck blocking the road
around the curve. We hear police car sirens
and see flashing lights as we creep around
the scene and are off again. Thieves?
Kidnappers? Spies on the run?
Whatever the movie, it will continue
without us. We are off and away, chatting
and laughing louder than the sound
of the wind and the engine revving
around the next corner.
© 7-29-16 (Maila and me; on our way home from Finn Fest)