champion of nocturnal play, 
the year’s first lightning bug 
beckons at the window.

a strange summer night:
i sleep beneath spring stars, 
under leafless trees.

#hammock #haiku

in the night, dripping 
wet blanket on the line,
laden with spring rain
— you on my mind.

a passing lullaby, 
the freight train repeats itself, 
echoing childhood.

#midnight #haiku

(via writertogo)

from the night comes the screeching gnash of entangled cats. i step onto the porch and thrice stomp my hiking staff on the floorboards. the surprise of porch thunder sends eight short legs bolting through the dry brush of winter’s slumbering garden, carrying their fight deeper into the moonless night.

the amber porch light falls but a few feet beyond the weathered planks; i see little more than the shadows of nearby trees. but from the darkness comes a voice, pleading in words i can’t quite apprehend, crying in a tone like a tortured toddler, a feral yowling that leaves me a little afraid to step off the porch.

it’s probably just one of the cats, dismayed to find itself up a tree, i tell myself. i whistle into the night; it howls back at me.

i decide that checking on it can wait until daylight.