welcome to the haikutimes

Issue #98, Avalanche Basin, Maroon Bells Wilderness, August 19-23, 2004. Haiku and photographs by Jonathan; additional haiku contributions by David Teitler and Michael Conti.

first dazzle of gold
august skies bringing moisture,
dampened topsoil

wilderness boundary
pretty on one side
ugly on the other?

lucky i'm alive
walking with friends through wet grass
the sun coming out

live rat, frozen rat
living leaf, sun-wrinkled leaf
autumn in the air

five weeks in asia
one day back in the forest
releasing tension
breathing, relaxing

legs made of steel
back made of rice paper
dave plods the nine miles

three forty-year olds
hit the trail without their wives
backpacking milestone

nine miles, seven hours
thirty-six hundred feet
before dinnertime

no thunder, lightning
just misty rain on peak-tops
drizzle in valley

in blue and yellow
michael's raincoat and hat
contrasts with forest

missing paige after
800 hours in asia
she would like the woods

i felt a little drop
but i'm not going to believe it
last time, i put on my coat
but the sun came out
as i sat
under a tree

after wet july
the grass
completely dry

carpet of yellow
arnica heals my wounds
just by looking at it

nothing i like better
than to walk on nature's trails
under threat of rain
high mountain ridge scrambling
campsite far below

yellow and purple
imagination moves through
portals of conscience

richness of asia
in art, culture and landscape
matched by these mountains

so honored to walk
across from magnificence
of capital peak

jon walks, draws and writes
negotiating hairpin
all at the same time

it's quintessential
jon walking, writing, drawing
all at the same time

bachelor backpack
that is, until we go home
to each of our wives

always love finding
columbines in crevasses,
pipsqueaking picas

sound of rock falling
bird chirping and wind blowing
stream water flowing

not one motorbike
disturbs this peaceful meadow
i walk in silence

moss-covered boulders
along fast-moving stream
sure-footed squirrel
climbs gnarly-limbed trunk

telling fire stories
from our rambunctious childhood
around the campfire

squirrel with a nut
scampers around mist-shrouded
capital headwall

brown moth on aster:
i think he spent the whole night
sleeping on pink throne

clean air fills my lungs
musky odor fills nostrils
feeling full of life

geodes on the peak
breaking into two to reveal
gem interior

summer or winter storm?
pausing long enough in the
quasi-stormy balance of clouds
and sun
avalanche lake far below

i found a white feather
on a high ridgetop
with the wind blowing
it sat there for me to pick up

the sacred mountain is everywhere

tenacious blossoms
the profusion of wildflowers
at twelve-thousand feet

spherical stones
like a tender male psyche
resting in my hands

"there's a wide swath there
moving to that second ridge "
dave looks at the clouds

a golden eagle
white tail flashing, swoops to look
at gleaming white bone

see jon run
wait 'til he has children
like the rest of us!

cow patty on trail
who could have left such a mess?
elk with colitis?

stroganoff is served!
such impeccable timing -
friend arrives in camp

on his second cast
mike hooks an eighteen-incher
wily cutthroat trout

native resident
red cutthroat gills, leopard skin
now frying in foil

like an electron
the random bouncing of hail
on rocks and branches

certain survial sense
that you feel
cold, hunger and thirst
leaving shelter in the dust

smell of the forest -
but also forest buddies
who explore with me

the passing hailstorm
leaves a five o'clock shadow
pearly white stubble

hey - is that some
microneurotic soil
you just walked on?

slow pace of decay
tree trunk absorbed by the earth,
dark shroud remaining

fungus amungus
chief one-stem does little dance
and asks for two more

theater of life
doing a dance in front of
approaching rainstorm

time is a sculpture
wringing meaning from matter,
energy and mass

watching storms
develop, form, fade
from a ridge-top vantage point

stupendous asters
succumb to enthralled bootstep

in such abundance
i cannot but help but walk on
such precious blossoms

i have a whole day
just to be me, to be
completely free

you only notice
that you have no sense of time
while not observing

everywhere signs of
violent upheaval, turmoil
in silent forest

your youth
under that canyon and stars
is also your old age
under the canyon and stars

the ideals of the few
might infect the ideals of the many
like spam or suicide bombing

thinking of john muir
as we purposefully await
rainstorm at ridgeline

having a hard time-
but why?
with the sight of that
beautiful cut-throat red trout
from it's native pool

a rock-and-mud slide
carving incongruous route
swath of destruction

first i see squirrel
running up tree with pinecone
then i see pinepile

treading the same ground -
my seven-year recollection
glad to be refreshed

bark like a tire tread
wrapped around that gnarled aspen
grayed with summer rain

with its river of tears
the earth washes it's own body
eroding, sculpting

earth turned inside-out
conglomerate from red wall
ripping through earth skin

simple joy, walking
with all you need on your back
to last a few days

leaving wilderness
i feel domestication
quickly returning

solo/group kukai
jonathan machen