Haiku 365: April

#92: 4/1/2015
Never trust the warmth.
Ohio giveth, taketh.
Winter hides, returns.

#93: 4/2/2015
Radishes and cheese.
When you grow up, you can eat
whatever you want.

#94: 4/5/2015
An ode to beets. Ahem:
Somehow this scant root contains
all that I despise.

#95: 4/5/2015
Rabbits arriving,
buds on trees. Evidently,
nature’s wheel has turned.

#96: 4/5/2015
Girl, seven months old,
concerned with toys, noise, and milk,
but not the future.

#97: 4/6/2015
Stories of the day
shared from spouse to spouse: these threads
weave a shared lifetime.

#98: 4/7/2015
Schemes set in motion
gather momentum daily.
Zenith approaches.

#99: 4/8/2015
Lunch at Panera –
sitting with Betsy, watching
rain-soaked people rush.

#100: 4/9/2015
Rain in the morning
and the afternoon. Who keeps
refilling the sky?

#101: 4/10/2015
Chatting and smiling.
Kind woman, pleasant office.
Needle drinks my blood.

#102: 4/11/2015
Errands and coffee,
conversation and sunshine.
Happy Saturday.

#103: 4/12/2015
Starting a new book!
Crisp cream pages, stark fresh ink
conjure a hero.

#104: 4/16/2015
Falling behind! These
haikus are all so tiny,
they slip through the cracks.

#105: 4/16/2015
Birthdays approaching:
wife, friend, and self, all thirty.
Are we grown-ups now?

#106: 4/16/2015
Violence to the grass,
wrought with gasoline and steel,
seems to please the birds.

#107: 4/16/2015
The broad black blanket
of night clouds, snuffing starlight,
settles on the world.

#108: 4/17/2015
Teetotaling perks:
three stiff drops in a shot glass
fly me to the moon.

#109: 4/18/2015
Sun through east window
blares and blinds me, showing off,
then heads up to work.

#110: 4/20/2015
Are you so certain
vast Earth and sky still exist
while you blink your eyes?

#111: 4/20/2015
Wind leans on the tree,
murmuring portents to leaves,
scaring squirrels off.

#112: 4/21/2015
Read the book aloud.
Let the cadences roll out
your throat, rich and raw.

#113: 4/22/2015
Electric light bulbs
lack the sun’s radiance, but
their schedules are free.

#114: 4/23/2015
Look – my old car gleams
silver, seats immaculate.
Faithful, humble, proud.

#115: 4/26/2015
Writers hoard books like
dragons keep gold, sleepy, fierce,
hiding from the sun.

#116: 4/26/2015
Thirty candle flames
puff out; thirty blackened wicks
send up silent smoke.

#117: 4/26/2015
Following sidewalks,
we peer at the mute houses.
What do walls conceal?

#118: 4/30/2015
I trap the spider
in a cup and set it free.
Mercy, or habit?

#119: 4/30/2015
Sullen post-rain clouds
drift overhead, ushering
sunset to the west.

#120: 4/30/2015
In the beginning,
light on the darkness, a word.
Fiat lux. And then?

#121: 4/30/2015
Nearing end of week
and end of month. Cycles and
cycles; the wheel turns.

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