©2006 by Jennifer Honeycutt. May not be reproduced without permission.
some haikus i wrote recently:
wind — loud and certain,
like mother nature’s booming
voice, reprimanding.
—
“you’re naughty children,”
the wind howls with abandon,
unleashing its wrath.
—
while this fierce wind blows,
i should eat some chocolate
and lick my fingers.
—
i’d like to dunk you
in water, over your head,
to see your bubbles.
—
would you sink or swim
if i pushed you in — are you
a witch or dead man?
—
water slips and slides
between mossy rocks and mud,
finding its way home.
—
orange and red flames
dance around in a circle,
eating oxygen.
—
oxygen and fire —
two tangled webs that meet and
multiply with ease.