Here's this week's heap of haikus:

Don't panic when there's
fire in the sky; it may just
be the setting sun.



(Thanks to Kristina Rebelo for the use of her photograph.)

 
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Christie-ku:

When they ramped up the
political payback, they
went a bridge too far.

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Sad-but-true-ku:

The new health care law
is ghetto-izing sick folks ...
docs treat the healthy.

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He sat in the church
wondering how he got there ...
Ohio, that is.

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You don't always know
when you have stepped from a field
into a meadow.
 

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While dealing the cards,
I notice the six of clubs
lying on the floor.


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With flights of angels,
No pat-downs or lay-overs ...
or shoe removals.
 

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tanka haiku:

Are you touched each day?
Do you caress your love and
hold them in your arms?

  Instead, search for cyber-hugs,
  as salve for withered longings?”

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Ah, the Brooklyn Bridge.
This iconic span defines
grace and elegance.

Like giant harps that
span the river Jordan, the
bridge's cables loom.
 

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Hailing a taxi,
her scarf flutters in the breeze.
God, I wish she'd stay.

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Spring-is-coming-ku:
 

Soon, a ladybug
will start an epic journey
across my shirt sleeves.

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He sits quietly
on a stool in a diner
and stares at his soup.
 

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Silent surrender;
she flops onto the sofa
and turns on TV.
 

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She leaned and whispered,
"I will never forget you ..."
But, by May, she had.
 

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Double haiku:

She stepped off the bus
and his heart began to pound.
He'd missed her so much.

The drab bus station
was illuminated by
the glow of their love
 

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Faded love letters,
dried flowers pressed in a book ...
Evidence l'amour.
 

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When I'm all alone
in my heart and in my mind,
you reverberate.
 

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Please stop nudging me.
I'll get up in a minute.
Hit the snooze alarm.
 

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She hands him his hat.
A long uncomfortable pause ...
then, a last goodbye.

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No one really knows
how much they affect others.
Who could bear knowing?
 

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Winter joggers in
spandex tights and mittens, run
or freeze their assets.
 

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Riding Metro North
Snowy landscapes flying past,
I mull the future.
 

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Slippery sidewalks
cars pinned in by the plowed snow;
Winter walk-arounds.

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Sipping hot cocoa,
bundled up and toasty warm,
I count the snowflakes.
 

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Though wet snow falls, it's
too warm to stick to the ground.
Still feels like Winter.
 

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The snowy landscape
seems to go on forever ...
Minnesota morn.
 

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Walking the shoreline,
the fog envelopes me and
I absorb the calm.
 

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Nana's wool blanket,
wrapped tight around the infant
shields it from the cold.
 

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