Filed under haiku

9 (NaPoWriMo 2020– 3 April Haiku)

i White, ice pebbles fall; five-year-old fingers pick them up; hail melts fast. ii Cold, April wind blows through blooming bushes; yellow petals on green grass. iii Open window blinds: still bare trees tremble and bend; cold air felt, indoors.

2 (NaPoWriMo 2020)

i St. Augustine grass sunlit, green, crawling sharp blades poked tender bare feet. ii 803 Martin Luther King St.; passing trains shook black, barred windows. iii Humid winds, the hot smell of pine and pecan, blew against white brick walls.

NaPoWriMo: 4.26.19 (Friday: 3 Repetitive Haiku)

i. Windows blurred; cold Spring rain; heavy drops on bare skin goosebumps, raised black hairs. ii. Goosebumps, raised black hairs on shivering arms rubbed by hands: the sound of warmth. iii. Hands: The sound of warmth Blankets unfolded and pulled over our bodies.