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Issue #141, Gregory Canyon/Chautauqua, February 10, 2008. Skirting the stunning geology of Chautauqua Park, Gregory Canyon and the Flatirons, Haiku poets Jonathan Machen, Patrick Lynn, Krista Morien, Sanjay Rajan, Robert Power, David Harper, Susan Peterson and Sara Benson convene for a haiku walk in February, 2008.
gigantic cloud
ejects a few airplanes
into blue skies
waiting for warmth
this time of transition
always interesting
gray sky
this sunday morning
not reflecting my spirit
berries, shriveled, black
at the ends of branches, pose
as winter flowers
tiny jingle bell dog
trying not to be a meal
for a mountain lion
standing meditation
even breathing gets quiet
winter pine forest
in a gray
snaggle of branches
a mountain jay cocks it's head
haiku poet,
she skitters across the snow
tenderly, downhill
dabs of pure black
caw and circle
in the pure blue
under warming skies
society and nature
coexist with ease
surprised by a pair
of brilliant blue underwear
buried in the snow
ice and snow record
the wand'rings of squirrels, dogs,
and "stay-on-trail" people
we are born again
each day to our divine selves
just like new snowflakes
jack russell
outfitted with a cowbell
jingle jangle
i crush a juniper berry
hold it to my nose
and forget its name
minutes off the trail
i am in another world
of cactus and cliffs
wondering
how many lichens
can fit on this rock
what happens when words
don't even come anymore?
i am the haiku
droves of folks - walking
along the trail - tell their
stories with each other
sun out
warms my back
cucumber grass for lunch
dull grey snowfield
brightens to reveal my shadow
then returns to grey
kinnickinik rd.
remnants of a people
on a blue street sign
relationship tears
us apart and then it puts
us back together
much later
remembering the weight of my head
resting in her hands
wherefore art thou, green,
seldom seen down low amidst
grey white winter lands
stepping into
this protected white world
hidden trail of stillness
pants down, squat, pants up
quicker than a lightning bolt
then slow walk to the trail
richard simmons sighting
huff puff in a sweatshirt
in icy treadmill
nature's gleaners
flit from bare branch
to bare branch
at the juncture of
startled look, privacy secure?
- viewing and peeing
social agenda
intersects with random day
creating haiku
no trespassing
video surveillance in use
violators will be prosecuted
man, woman, child
all life has it's own story
rock, pinecone and snow
desperate for the sun
to come out which it does
so i don my sunglasses
clump of shit
wrapped in plastic
and winter snow
north-facing slope
glossed in white
long time till spring
without leaves, i see
the dance of branches dripping
into the creek bed
the eagerness
of haiku poets in february
pushes back the clouds
alternate route to somewhere
marked by hoof prints
in the snow
the tree wraps its roots
around lichen covered stone
a seat in the shade
sitting on a log
like a squirrel - shoveling
assorted nuts into my mouth
frozen neighborhood
birds sing from
their hidden places
dangling my feet
over the edge
in the coming spring
a few green leaves
amidst the winter rust shades
of the grape root plant
low roar of highway
interrupted by
chickadee staccato
suddenly in awe
of what's been all around me
forest of deep repose
dog paws and deer hoofs
squirrel feet and boots - their prints
"iced" along the trail
sense of place
no sense of time
among things wild
under this massive cloud,
resting in the moment
with these patient trees
late winter -
water dribbles down the creek
listening
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen