Early Morning Haiku

Often in the early morning, waiting for folks to show up to the cafe, I’ll sit and write. My brain isn’t up and running yet, so most times all I get are flashes, scraps of images or lines to work with. I think that’s why like to think of haiku, that rigorously (and beautifully) condensed form, as the poetry of work — short, concrete, immediate. Write one on the bus, on break, in the bathroom. Just write them.

Here’s one I wrote one day recently, remembering one of my most loved places:

High desert at dawn.
Pale blue. Hawk hovers. Deer ruts.
God tarried here.

 

 

 

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