Weekly Notes in Haiku 26, 2026
I’m visiting relatives in the Rocky Mountains, staying in my camper-van home on wheels. I’ve had time to fall more deeply in love with haiku and its comic cousin, senryū, for the way both encourage perception in general, and the perception of kinship in particular. Here are some things that caught my attention this week.
red flag warning—
chickadee grips
its branch
+++
swallows swooping—
superhero underpants day
+++
summer morning
as I lift the cup
wind touches my hand
+++
the vanilla scent
of ponderosa sap
nighthawk’s first call
+++
no wind
and a half-assed cloud—
noonday devils
+++
asleep
on the solar lantern
a moth
+++
smoky skies
hornet in the van
nobody panic!
+++
in the same day
fog, smoke, storm clouds
tasting notes
+++
wind rushing
hummingbird rushing…
sip of tea
Wishing you all good things this week, everyone.
Notes
In the USA, a red flag warning indicates extreme wildfire danger: high winds, high temperatures, and low humidity.
I like David Lanoue’s definition of haiku as “a one-breath poem that discovers connection.” Like many haiku writers in English, I was taught the 5-7-5 syllable rule in school and now agree with Lanoue and others that it’s too dense.