Haiku

I love the poets who can look at a thing & tell you all about it.

I am not that kind of poet. The hornet at the window is just a hornet, even as he fights the spider. 

I put an empty cup on the table. I call the sunrise a holiday from dreams. 

I am not clever though I know a good deal about remorse. 

There are five crows circling in the fallen leaves.  They have nothing else to do  

but to walk in rhythm with their appetites. 

As a friend of mine might say, there’s nothing perfect here that I know of. 

A scattering of clouds arrives from the east. I am glad they are clouds & not ideas.

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto