Haiku July ‘23

7/1
Nothing like a nice
baked potato with butter,
sour cream, and salt

7/2
Hello, little toad!
First spotted this century.
Oh, the things we’ve lost!

7/3
First rain, then smoke-sky.
Jays cry. A lawnmower runs.
It feels like April.

7/4
Walked the Lost Pond trails.
Lush canopy. Cool fungi.
Burgers? Kin? Flag? No.

7/5
Out-of service train
Bell-clanging, wheels ka-thunking.
Slow, slow, then fast. Whoosh!

7/6
Dismantling it
isn’t gifting others. It’s
self-liberation.

7/7
Summer air clamps close.
Coleus curls in the heat.
Ice cream for dessert.

7/8
Who knew rhino’s top
lip comes to a point? Or that
warthogs kneel to eat?

7/9
Orchid-like flowers
fall, rust, stick to the bottom
of shoes. Catalpa.

7/10
Words I like a lot:
velocity, catapult,
serendipity.

7/11. Three today!

Tear downs signal wealth.
This one released a stink that
lingers still, weeks on.

Moss adorned stone walls,
dressed as royally as a
queen in purple silk

Often prickly I
sometimes push people away.
But really, so what?

7/12
Rains rage in Vermont.
Canada’s woods are burning.
In the fridge, there’s cake.

7/14
CO2’s not smog.
There’s no scrubbing it away.
Heat is here to stay.

Robin alights. Branch
waggles. Berry grabbed, eaten.
Robin vanishes.

7/15
They pecked at the lawn,
crept among the ferns, two grown
turkeys and four chicks.

7/16
Congo elephants
are smaller, more quiet than
the Savannah type.

7/17
Slow, sore down the stairs.
But the coffee pot is full!
Evidence of care.

7/18
Granite quarry full
of green water. Gulls bobbing.
Two cormorants. Us.

7/19
Midnight: waves crash and
shur near hotel’s foundation.
Mother’s lullaby.

7/20
Hajib black. Sleeves black.
Legs covered. She sits low and
lets the waves drench her.

7/21
The slavery spin:
beneficial for some. Next
up: women like rape.

7/22
My cousin’s birthday
The first without his father.
Mine gone forty years.

7/23
Tablesaw whine all
day. Hammer rat a tat tat.
Vacation’s over.

7/24
Forty mile march
to Tel Aviv. First hundreds.
Then twenty thousand.

7/25
The wind comes. Then rain.
The dog and I sit, listen.
Part cuddle, part prayer.

7/26
Single web strand holds
light. Every swag and sway makes
photons slide. Magic.

7/27
Breathless coverage.
“Reading the tea leaves” is just
guessing, but I watch.

7/28
Humidity forces
an abbreviated walk.
But coneflowers thrive!

You know it’s hot when
shade with poison ivy is
better than no shade.

7/30
Prize: rusty washer,
a perfect blue jay feather.
No. It was the breeze!

7/31
The spending! Mac D’s,
Chick-fil-a, Wendy’s. We’ve talked.
Make a sandwich! Jeez.

8 thoughts on “Haiku July ‘23

  1. Faith

    I like your haiku. 7/9 I guessed with ‘orchid-like’ and knew it was catalpa at ‘rust.’ 7/16 Interesting. I thought I knew elephants, but didn’t remember this, if I ever knew. 7/28 I very much appreciate our 23% humidity, but my coneflowers never get much taller than a foot and wilt easily if not watered, behaving more annual than perennial. (Not like the 4′ prolific seeders in VA!) Summers here have gone from hot and dry to very hot and dry in just the 19 years I’ve been here.😟

    Reply
    1. deemallon Post author

      Summers here used to be unbearable six seven maybe ten days a summer. Not so now. Altho we have just had a string of perfect days!

      Reply
  2. Nancy

    I enjoyed 7/5…and I rather like the quilt to be dismantled(?) of 7/6…”serendipity” is a favorite word of mine too – along with “Jambalaya “…they are both so fun to say!
    July was a wonderful batch of haikus!! And with the prize at the close of the post…hello beautiful you!

    Reply

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