HAIKU

Beginners Haiku:

Take seventeen syllables,

Mould them from word clay.

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The hug

From the

Very first glug.

HAIKU

The haiku drift mines

Where we rummage for meaning

From discarded words.

HAIKU

The blinds are still drawn

Monday may not be out there:

Schrödinger's Monday.

HAIKU

Sunday is comfort

An oasis of silence

To rest a short while

HAIKU

We are now between

The tick and tock of summer's

Universal clock.

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Ritual and ceremony amid the slurping. ☕

HAIKU

Haikus? Tiny homes.

Compact and bijou. Offers

Around seventeen.

HAIKU

Language lays buried

In everyday shallow graves:

Words left unspoken.

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Another love letter to the soul. ☕