Haiku
I sometimes write haiku on bar napkins.
Here are a handful:
from Presence
skinning the fish
neither of us
blinks
from Modern Haiku
tea leaves—
I turn the cup this way
that way
zen garden—
gravel
in my sneakers
from bottle rockets
quiet morning—
a songbird
left by the cat
cough drop
in my coat pocket—
last winter’s cold
summer evening
in the crowded park
human chess
from Frogpond
winter afternoon—
warming my hands
with my hands
from Acorn
summer afternoon—
the koi
nibbles my reflection