Pesto

summer in a jar

basil, parmesan, garlic

tastebud time travel

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Urbane

just strolling along

big leather feet flap flapping

parking lot goose

©Mary Lee Hahn

 

Change

we turned a corner

(the redbuds are leafing out)

over there -- summer

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Ouch

one slip

I guess the knife is still sharp

blood mixes with onions

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Unseasonable

 

nature teaches us

expect the unexpected

snow in late April

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Gold

car changes color

maroon with a glaze of gold

oak pollen season

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Conviction

when will justice be

expected immutable

like rock not spring snow

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Celebrate

How do you pack a

decades-long friendship into

a three-line haiku?

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Enough

 

quanto basta

as much as you need

spring garden

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Shade

suddenly, there's shade

branches with buds subitize

shadows gain substance

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Seasons

old trees make new leaves

bark is rough but roots are strong

spring becomes summer

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Home

 

When will we decide

to stop squandering our home?
We act like there's time.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Now

ask some hard questions

spotlight inequalities

then make good trouble

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

And So?

 

white privilege abounds

black lives matter on yard signs

and I write haiku

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Choices

 

we teach the wrong things:

task completion, not passion

test taking, not joy

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

We've got seven weeks left, and I'm focusing as much as possible on passion and joy. Our newest fun: about 1/4 of the class is learning a new language using the DuoLingo app. 

Worn

 

this kitchen table

we are aging together

worn at the edges

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Mourning

 

after the cold snap

glorious magnolias

wear brown in mourning

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Housekeeping

 

illumination

sun shines through dirty windows

with no prejudice

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Chorus

 

singing in the dark

first one voice, then a chorus

early morning birds

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Moon

 

one slice of peach left

in a wide indigo bowl

early morning sky

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Together

 

nervous, excited

first day at school...in April

together at last

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Virginia bluebells

 

Virginia bluebells

at first neither blue nor bells

spring ephemeral

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Trillium

sessile trillium

blooms at the base of our oak

formerly forest

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Seeds

 

 

impulse purchase

packets of zinnia seeds

still too early

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Winter

 

 

razor blade north wind

winter is not quite over

wear wool once more

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Dawn

 

dark, darker, darkest

those moments just before dawn

wren sings from the fence

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

#haikudiary for National Poetry Month 2021: forecast

maple trees blushing

forsythia in full joy

forecast calls for snow

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Sleigh Ride

picture via wikimedia commons: Sleigh Ride by Winslow Homer

SLEIGH RIDE

shhh
say the runners
sliding through the snow

smack
say the reigns
asking horse to go

ching ching
say the bells
on the harness and the sleigh

flap flap
say the wings
of the crows that show the way

peekaboo
say moon and clouds
thanks for coming out to play


© Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Momentum

photo via Unsplash

Momentum

When you take your foot off the gas pedal

and roll to a stop in front of your house.

When you stop pumping your legs on the swing

and enjoy the ever-shortening trips back and forth.

When you stand still on your skates and just roll

feeling every pebble and sidewalk crack under your wheels.

When you sit at your desk and stare at the ceiling

and let go of the task at hand.

When you know there is a mountain of work to be done

and you deliberately choose not to do it.

Since when did loss of momentum

become equated with some kind of failure?

Today I will reclaim loss of momentum

as a form of pleasure.

I will savor the slow down and the pull back

the drifting and the regathering of strength so I can begin again

later.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021 (draft)

Perspective

 

 

photo via Unsplash

Perspective

All my life you've been a dipper.

Just this morning, though,

as I wondered whether you were telling me

to pour out

or scoop up

you changed into a giraffe

your long curved neck

reaching across galaxies

so you could nibble on the juicy gibbous moon.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021