Fifty years ago, I went up to Greenwood Park Bungalow Colony in the Catskills with my parents for the summer. When I saw that this poem was your sixty forth and it was about a boy and a bouquet…
moonlit floor the scent of sumac wafts through the shadows
There's something nourishing about writing. Of course, I strive to do it well, and feel satisfied those few rare times when I think I may have accomplished that. But the process of writing is, for me, the bulk of its joy. This place is my "ahhh".
3 comments:
I hadn't considered that an act of love, of the physical realm, could in itself form haiku...but, of course!
Fifty years ago, I went up to Greenwood Park Bungalow Colony in the Catskills with my parents for the summer. When I saw that this poem was your sixty forth and it was about a boy and a bouquet…
moonlit floor
the scent of sumac wafts
through the shadows
Thank you, The Crow. Nora, from the (now) spring (then winter) haiku blog inspired the concept of "concrete haiku" for me.
So glad this haiku rekindled pleasant memories for you, martin.
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