, , , , , ,

she’s waited up…
to have some last words
with me

a solemn part
another baby

the plumber
kneeling in our tub
– talking to himself

staff meeting-
he stands his pen
on end

our son spills his milk –
not an iota
of reaction from him

sentinel pine-
roots running every which way
showered in moonlight

back to its hole-
the woodchuck shot through
its hindquarters

Modern Haiku vol. XXIX no. 1 Winter-Spring, 1998