First great change of spring—
the coronavirus spreads
all over the world.
On the patio
six feet away from my friend
we share springtime tea.
first nibble of spring—
a handful of raw almonds
with my morning tea
Through a small window
I watch the first spring robins
foraging for worms.
First possum of spring—
I’m inclined to think he’s dead
till his tail twitches.
Spring sneaks through my yard—
the first blossom’s opening
brings me to my knees.
Haiku © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Whirligig #259
More Writers’ Pantry #13 at Poets and Storytellers United
Thunderheads gathering on a spring afternoon, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
Sagging wooden doors, Santa Fe, New Mexico
opening the doors
only to close them again—
house of smothered dreams
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Open/Openness”
She wears simple clothes
with not a tear in the fabric,
with not a single button missing,
bought from the corner thrift store—
a scarf the color of buckwheat honey;
a skirt as black as a bell at midnight;
a chemise beaded with row upon row
of tiny white shells
gathered just before dawn.
I never tire of watching her
in her element:
the thrift store at the corner,
where the sidewalk is almost level,
and a sign in the window
says they have an opening
for someone who speaks Latin—
perhaps she will apply.