We have a little haiku club that meets daily at our house. The birds serve tea and the trees play host. One talkative bright-blue scrub jay, I call Boccaccio. The dark fir, Shakespeare’s Ghost. Despite their windy natures, both of late kindly defer to the cherry, who is better known in our club as Kobayashi Issa — another name for wealth.
Cherry blossoms — which secrets
will she keep, and which will she tell?
March 12, 2020
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces