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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

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

solo/group kukai
jonathan machen