Here's this week's heap of haikus:

On "Project Flyway"
Heidi Klum's kids judge feathered
faux-pas of Fashion.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

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Blue beach umbrellas
flutter in the breeze, casting
their sandy shadows.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

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A hole in the clouds,
a bright sunbeam shining through ...
We felt touched by God.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

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A hawk contemplates
the 'rodent situation' ...
then swiftly, it strikes.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)
 

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When you do things right,
you don't have to do what's left.

What's left is alright.

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He has a smart phone,
but a dumb toaster oven ...
so things evened out.

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Some flowering quince
brighten up my room, while they
tease my sinuses.

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Like a garden rose,
the nurse showed up in the Spring ...
and pricked my finger.
 

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His leather briefcase
was left in a Greek diner
on Twenty-third Street.
 

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Eighteen coffee cups
clutter up the countertop;
broken dishwasher.

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I took a taxi
which took forever and all
my folding money.

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As the dusk draws nigh
chickens roost and dogs bark at
approaching shadows.
 

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In a quiet room,
far from all the excitement,
plans were being made.
 

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I'm down on my knees.
Tell me what I want to hear ...
How do I get up?

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Don't feel discouraged
when your back's against the wall ...
you've found some support.

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Wishing for rainbows
is fine, but refracting light
through a prism ... works.

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As we left the church,
Birds began to sing. Angels
whispered, 'Life goes on.'

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The young schoolgirl's crush
waited 'neath the boardwalk with
a cold grape soda.

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The gist of each jest,
(as each guest might have guessed), was
at the host's behest.

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In the marbled foyer,
an arrangement of jasmines
offers us welcome.

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Thoughts run through my head,
in-congruent images
chasing after them.

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They both were nervous ...
Its been so long ... Her heart raced.
He HAD to kiss her.

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His leather briefcase
was left in a Greek diner
on Twenty-third Street.

 
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In a quiet rain,
his thoughts ricocheted about,
dampening his mood.
 
 
 
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His tortured soul found
small measures of contentment
just beyond its reach.

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On a shady lane,
there lived a lonely girl that
dreamed of love fulfilled.

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Like sails on schooners,
the bed sheets billowed, still pinned
to the old clothesline.

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Ev'ry Flea Market
has some folks who'll wrestle you
for Fiestaware.

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He's got vertigo,
you can bet he's sure to go ...
falling down the stairs.
 
 

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Marble-sized hailstones
bounced off air conditioners
in the East Village.

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In the afterglow
we must reflect and embrace
the change the flames wrought.

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So let us slumber,
for we have come a long way
and have eaten lunch.

***

More next week.