THE BISHOP AND THE BUTTERFLY
MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE
by Michael Wolraich
Here's this week's heap of haikus:
Rain evaporates The Autumn leaves decompose Snow melts. Life goes on.
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A doormat thrown in the trash has obviously worn out its welcome.
Halloween's over. We have saved enough Daylight. Next stop: Thanksgiving!
Dems lost big last night. What do we do now? It's hard to feel optimistic about anything. If our ideas are so great, why do so few people support and vote for them?
(Ding-Dong!) Trick or Treat!! "Who are YOU supposed to be?!" (Candy dropped in bags.)
(More from the series, "At Rest" ...)
I keep wondering: Will such wonders ever cease? Not in this lifetime!
Her name is Sandy. She's a goddess of the beach made with kelp and shells.
Shy birds on the line, trying not to heed the call of Mother Nature.
A beach umbrella keeps a lonely vigil as the tide starts to turn.
Labor Day double haiku:
Forty hour work weeks, Safety and child labor laws ... a minimum wage.
Sunshine and whiskey are a lot like love; they all can make you go blind.
The scent of jasmine scatters as the door is slammed and she rushes out.
The ocean so vast, and the waves so persistent ... I'll swim tomorrow.