Bicycle Haiku

Spring is beginning to cut into this year’s dance of seasons. As if the world is responding to my thoughts, a line of geese just flew above my house. I’ve spent lots of time outdoors these past few winters — this year walking to work most mornings, and biking in past years.

Wet roots, leaning trees —
three robins meeting on a
shadow-dappled path.

Since snow covered much of the bike path to my old job, I ended up taking the only other route available: I rode along Route 9 in with the dawn before the buses were running those mornings, and stacked chunks of Parmesan and Gruyère onto display wheels for customers to pick & choose.

Skeleton tree fence
xylem phloem bend your bones —
straighten out your back.

And so spring blossomed all the sweeter—once the paths thawed I rode freely between rows of trees, and day by day watched the leaves begin to tip the maple branches with green. It was such an opportunity to see nature, and I found myself composing haiku in my head to entertain myself as I biked.

Announcing danger?
Birds in the brewery eaves
Announcing dinner!

Haiku needn’t be in syllabic form — that was more a fun mental puzzle than a poetic conceit for me. If you ever want me to roll my eyes and heave a sigh, show me one more haiku that ends in “refrigerator.” I dare you.

Shadow creatures dart
away from the path tonight.
Scarcer, the fireflies.

The things that resonate with me in haiku have little to do with syllables. Even the haiku masters had their arguments about what made haiku so. What I love are the signs of the seasons, the poet’s presence in nature, the pauses.

Soggy blossom roads.
Chasing a wet-winged robin —
watch out, tunnel cat!