Back Roads Haiku

My back roads are unpaved, quiet, undeveloped, dusty in the summer and muddy in the spring. Walk along any of them and you are likely to see old family cemeteries, stone walls, streams, ponds, and a variety of flora and fauna. It's where I live, and the source of most of these haiku.

autumn winds

orchard fragrance

from her clothes

    ____

a horse’s head

at once up and alert

 - changing clouds

    ____

when I come back…

the rich, lasting hue

of autumn clover

late summer rain

with only a threadbare shirt

a smiling scarecrow 

sunday visitors

an apple slice

between thumb and blade

often

as autumn approaches… 

a quiet moon

    ____

lakeside

one camp lantern competes

 - waning moon

    ____

this dragonfly

still young at summer’s end

…where to now?

where two streams meet…

maple leaves

beginning to turn

    ____

a warm, woolen blanket

cool orchard

through an open window

    ____

shorter days -

a few leaves

rest in the hammock

feeling tired -

through breezy leaves

the waxing moon

    ____

on the cusp

of autumn…

morning dew lingers

    ____

a child’s reach -

sunflowers

to evening stars

mugginess -

one pumpkin

immovable

    ____

distant thunder

a barely audible lullabye

to his grandchild

profile

of a half moon

… oak leaves

    ____

herb garden 

in the dark…

the mint beneath our feet

    ____

night lake -

our moon 

stretching

familiar stream -

the cool bed sheets

that await me

    ____

sunflowers

strain to gaze 

at this last summer moon

    ____

what’s left

in a once rich garden… 

… bumping hips, walking home

open windows

on a still summer day

…a  vacant stare

    ____

moonlight finds it…

the neck 

of an empty wine bottle

    ____

bed time story 

a cricket…

so many stars

day moon -

getting change

at the farmer’s market

    ____

thinking back

withered wildflowers

in the guest room

    ____

she’s still ticklish, , , 

corn tassels tease

the clouds along

what it takes… 

the ease of a trout

facing the current

    ____

her laugh 

as we walk among

melancholic wildflowers

    ____

crickets

the first cool feel

of my pillow

a small field

all gone to goldenrod

- august sun setting

from deep 

within the milky way

…this evening coolness

    ____

that moon

it knows of autumn dew

on fading rose petals

    ____

when autumn comes

to follow the scent

to this orchard