It's sort of amazing how working with haiku really loosens me up and helps the ideas spill forth. I think it's because when I write haiku I start contemplating the smallest detail of the world around me. The orange of the dragonfly and how it matches the koi in the pond below it. The red of a twin double-stroller reflecting in the water as it goes over the half moon bridge near the pool with the baby koi. The sound of military aircraft in the distance as the koi silently roam the bottom of the pond. The purple of the iris coming up in the middle of a small, sculpted black pine. The more I write haiku the more I want to know the names of things - the flowers, the insects, the butterflies, the trees, and everything about the world. Somehow in the contemplation of the minute, the whole universe starts to make sense, if only for a fleeting moment, but yet long enough to birth poems.
Speaking of birthing (and hopefully this transition isn't too abrupt), today is my daughter's birthday and Santa Cruz is too far away to give her a hug...
the clay handprint
in the garage