Two-line haiku

This entry is part 29 of 38 in the series Bridge to Nowhere: poems at mid-life

A sudden waft of perfume at 1:00 a.m.:
night-blooming cereus.

*

Six hours of broken sleep.
I wake to find a web across my door.

*

I eat the good half of a hairy peach
as quickly as I can.

*

Distant tropical storm.
A small flock of migrants gusts around the yard.

*

Above the blue-and-while dogwood berries,
a blue-and-white warbler.

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave's writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the "share alike" provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

17 Comments


  1. 3 a.m., alarm harsh. In the dark summer swelter,
    I make a cup of coffee by touch.

    Reply

      1. thanks for adding the blog post link. really enjoyed this unexpected poetic start into the new week.

        Reply

  2. The fish with unsleeping, hollow eyes
    holds an ocean of sound in its wooden belly.

    Reply

  3. I misread one line three times – substituting “migrant gusts” for “flock of migrants gusts”. Either works, although I rather like the thought of even the winds migrating.

    Your cereus reminds me – my cereus monstrouse bloomed in July after ten years of just sitting in its pot. One a.m. seems to be the time, regardless of variety.

    Reply

    1. That was a good misreading! I guess I didn’t write that because I’d already mined the thought for yesterday’s Morning Porch entry, but probably it was still influencing me.

      I’m not sure what variety I have, but blooming twice in two months is quite a surprise!

      Reply

  4. Hands smell of sunflower
    after stripping all the buds from the busted stalk.

    Reply

  5. Across the street, woman picks fallen leaves
    from her car’s windshield.

    Reply

  6. Two-line haikus open doors
    with a crack like the wind blowing through the house.

    Reply

  7. Inscribe this flesh with fire sear char burn
    The heat of words a wind before the mind’s inferno

    Reply

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