Friday, September 4, 2026

Late Summer Haiku

These were submitted to a contest for batches of seasonal haiku. I've not been told yet whose batch won, so apparently it wasn't mine. So I get to inflict them on you here. Please excuse the freaky font; it came from the contest entry form.

Each haiku reflects an actual moment of awareness from some late August or early September in my life; some blogged about here, some not.

spider webs line but
not cross the path where one was
moved aside gently

hummingbird buzzes
through field, scouting for
budding jewelweed

Northern yellow leaves:
summer moves southward into
Southern yellow leaves

busily munching
caterpillar discovers
grass juice on a shoe

the jewelweed she loved
fills garden with hummingbirds
that would have pleased her

little bay mare just
can't wait to run, challenges
her pet goat to race

possum seemed timid
cat slapped it past flybush
to beg for food treats

calendulas' bitter
scent refreshes
perfect fresh veg

smelly green humpbacked
caterpillars clean up
flies' mess on fruit trees

potato grew in
shape of a doughnut
around a stone

dig up the roots of
yellow-leaved clinging vines
some people eat them

Jenny Wren said flit
Johnny Wren said sit
storm backed Jenny

proudly the kitten
shows that it's big enough, at last,
to soil the steps

barren paper wasp
claiming no home guards
bedroom from gnats 

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