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Issue #71 Community Gardens, September 14, 2003. Haikutimes staff writers Jonathan Machen, Krista Morien, Susan Peterson, Sara Benson, Laree Kline and Patrick Lynn bring you a special September harvest report from Boulder's Community Garden. Photographs and layout by Jonathan Machen.

a white dove
in the sun-warmed silence
above the field

maybe it landed
in these beautiful gardens
at night: stray port-o-let

cosmos and peppers
lettuces starting to seed
basil with bad breath

chaotic profusion
trash and untameable splendor
explosions intertwined

common miracle
a bag of sunflower seeds
starts with drooping head

emotional morning
a slender yellowish bird
on the hollyhock

melons firm, leaves limp
black and white catnip kitty
purple amaranth

old man
holding a knucklely gourd
in his shrivelled hand

one can still call out,
"how are you - nice to see you"
across rows of beets

tomatoes rotting
juicy flesh on wilted vine
owners off hiking

following a cat
i thought i saw
through quiet suburban yards

how appropriate
to be reading the onion
next to compost bin

two white lawn chairs
still tilted in conversation
last night in the garden

unnameable beauty
does joy increase thru naming things
can life alone suffice

sharing her garden
instructing about perennials
he feigns interest

hoping to get laid
he listens to her drone on
about autumn gardening

my busy gardening partner-
quickly picks peppers
while i write haiku

towering and sprawling
autumn corn, squash, and sunflowers
escaping the gardeners

giant sunflower
drooping under it's own weight
can't face the sun

pumpkin habaero
garden language floating
up and down the rows

shrieks of rainbow chard
hot pants pink, see me yellow
joy is in this place

obviously imported
for the task: beefy husbands
picking pumpkins

the empty chair
in each garden plot, spirit
of the gardener

seemingly invented
for some strange race of giants:
zucchini squash plants

whimpering and whining
while dessicated reader
drones on and on

sun shining through
the chard leaves, revealing
a glowing red tree

my eyes wake to snow
my body slowly descends
9,000 feet to fall

numbered markers
plants in pens of imagination
ornate twig fence best

frustration abounds
desire for fresh and sweet descriptors
sorry lack of words

missed the traditional
haiku nap - because i was
a tad bit late

group effort to
harvest squash and watermelon
bitten by frost

garden guy on cell
updating harvest report
to wife back at home

late summer afternoon
birds and insects tend gardens
otherwise neglected

albino pumpkin
quietly unassuming
in hidden corner

while last night's frost
was killing these plants, i was
snuggling closer to tammy

abandoned dirt mounds
reminiscent of burial plots
some ten years ago

frosted squash leaves
others shrouded in white sheets
waiting for relief

solo/group kukai
jonathan machen