The geese flew over last night
I saw them in moonlight
The whisper of wing-beats
eclipsed by their honking

Steady in line
one after another
changing formation
but never the pace
A graceful sight!

The stump of the tree
cut down by thieves trespassing
glows pain day and night

Here we have for you
a happy birthday haiku
without more ado

With mingled feelings
of sadness and joy
I read the note
found tucked in a handbag
being given away

It brought back faint echos
unsettling thoughts
of relationships broken
of good times and sour

Only a note
but it casts such a spell
It quite overpowered me
'til the phone woke me harshly
and I came back to now

Trains cross russet moors
forests ravines waterfalls
in scenic splendor

To the untrained eye
most modern art -
'modern'  meaning anything
this century or less -
though luminously painted
remains mysterious
and at times a shock,
a shock so great
as to render one speechless,
minus even a syllable,
on the gallery's contents

Though a friend of mine
a respected artist
was heard to say
as she left the exhibition
"scrambled egg, scrambled egg"

The purple prose
of the local paper-
trying to imitate
the tabloid press
with its flaming headlines-
describing the animal
seen in the headlights
of a reporter's car
very late at night
is a bit over-ripe
in the cold light of morning