We went outside to write haiku poetry on a beautiful day, for Write Out.
As students writing, so, too, was I. These come from my little poetry journal.
Crinkled, like paper;
the edges of a small leaf,
disintegratingWhite clouds, whispering
secrets to the distant sky
like signals in smokeTree-limb picture frame,
like arms reaching for the stars;
a focused beautyAn ant crawls, pauses;
balanced dancer in the wind
on a stage of grassYoung poets, quiet
writers pondering nature
on a notebook page
Peace (in lines of three).
Kevin
