Here's this week's heap of haikus:

tanka haiku: When snow turns to ice,
and bitter winds sting my face,
I think of baseball.

For Spring is getting nearer
and Umps soon will shout, "Play Ball!"


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tanka haiku: All men were once boys,
All leaders, once followers,
Wise men, ignorant.

    Neither resent nor regret,
    all will soon enough be frail.

 

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As a tree reaches
for the sky, a potato
embraces the earth.

 

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Silhouettes of trees
turn my river view into
a jigsaw puzzle.

 

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Dimly lit streetlamps
dot a snowy path that winds
through Riverside Park.
 

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Troubles never last.
Like cream poured into coffee,
they'll soon swirl away.

 

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Deep in the forest,
patches of stippled sunlight,
warm a leaf-strewn trail.

 

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When she walked away,
I brought my hands to my face,
to hold in my dreams.

 

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Twilight, cold and wet ...
To ease the chill in my bones,
a savory bisque!


 

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What's more exhausting
than having unlimited
opportunities?


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Back from the future?
Aerodynamic designs.
Gone like a cool breeze.

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The future was then,
but now the future is a
present from the past.

( Ivo Pannaggi, Speeding Train (Treno in corsa), 1922 )

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Don't resist urges
from impulse or desire ...
they will point the way.

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Lit by sunlight, a
glowing landscape made out of
bits of colored glass.

(  Happy would-have-been 166th birthday to Louis Comfort Tiffany. )

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Would you choose to go
relive your youth, if you could
not change anything?



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The out of season
strawberries sit tastelessly
on her kitchen table.



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Winter snow again,
will blow again, your car will
need a tow again.



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tanka haiku: In our solitude,
do we not all wonder if
we have moved the world?

It is at such times, we must
remember days like today.



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He was raised by wolves
But tutored by nightingales
So he howls in key.



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 Implausible schemes
 might come to fruition ... IF
 the timing is right.


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When my mind escapes
from thoughts that weigh it down, I
soar above the clouds.


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Eighteen coffee cups
cluttering the counter-top;
broken dishwasher.
 

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How her heart would ache
in the middle of the night ...
yet, be healed by dawn.


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 A wellspring of joy,
lies within each of our hearts,
waiting to be tapped.


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