thunder having passed
crunching sounds at the cat’s bowl
Category: haiku
twigs
in the nook
of a bough —
a bird’s nest
*
the half moon hovers
like Venus over a dove
perched on a roof’s arch
at dawn
*
Autumn at the park,
the bare trees bow to the clouds —
the dog’s tail wagging
Sunday at first light,
a wine glass by the window —
the baby crying
*
Cold winter evening,
a wind warning in effect —
snoring from the cat
*
Passing the alley,
the wall-mounted lamp still glows —
my shadow darkens
The way she walks around in her slippers — I will watch her do anything.
Q: What is it about that little bit of foam on your nose from your macchiato that activates my ❤ hormones?
At the corner of 6th and Fremont Street,
intense waves of heat,
the smell of kitchen grease.
On the sun-hazy Vegas highway
horizon in July,
a crawling cop car
Much like me,
the natural tendency
of spaghetti
is sticky when wet
