Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form Poetry
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Spring 2008, vol 6 no 1


Adelaide B. Shaw

a river view
between the ash trees
smaller each year;
what I could have seen
in an earlier life


a great white oak
felled to the forest floor
by old age;
over three hundred years
and its time had come


abandoned farm –
the buildings bequeathed
to the crows and wind;
across the fields ghostly forms
in the flying dust


vast hills and meadows
the same as before
yet not the same;
filled with expectations
of something unknown


afternoon mending –
a breeze through the window
stirs a reverie;
what guiding spirit led me
to this comfort zone


sea rocks –
the sharp edges covered with
moss and lichen;
a crab scurries, secure
in its element


the retarded young man
with deliberate care
bags my groceries;
I curb my need to hurry
and return his smile


rain clouds –
the bleakness of November
made darker;
two months since I've heard your voice,
two months of early winter


Adelaide B. Shaw Adelaide B. Shaw writes haiku, tanka and haibun, as well as short stories. Her work has appeared in a number of journals. She lives with her husband of 46 years in a small town in upstate New York.