Fireweed
burning up the meadows
with their blooms.
A loon
cries forlornly,
rain is coming.
Vo'keme
won't give up,
Spring blizzard.
(Note: Vo'keme is the Cheyenne Indian name for Old Man Winter.)
Big mowers trim grass
along the Interstate,
crew cut.
(Thanks to Zane Parks for help trimming this one.)
Chilly morning,
driving through farmland,
cattle steam-cleaning
pasture.
(This last haiku's key "cattle steam-cleaning" phrase is from my friend, Harry Harm.)
Our love chaps
in dry, complacent weather.
We pray for rain.
Campout wakeup clock:
a bluejay hawking his wares.
He lost our purchase.
Aspen bowed their heads
every time we stopped to pray:
they know holy ground.