Terebess Asia Online (TAO)

Back to the Modern American Haiku Poets

Christopher Herold's Haiku


foghorns ...
we lower a kayak
into the sound

morning overcast
a few seeds still dangle
from the dandelion

the kettle whistles ...
a blur of garden color
on the window

early morning sun
scattered on the table
several grains of salt

Sierra sunrise…
pine needles sinking deeper
in a patch of snow

cloud shadow
long enough
to close the poppies

returning quail
call to us from the moment
of which he speaks

soon after the child
the puppy
goes to sleep

while I'm gone
my dog
takes the driver's seat

bird shadow
from tree shadow
to fence shadow

hot night
within the din of crickets
a single cricket

breakfast alone
squeezing juice from an orange
full of seeds

of all your branches, this one
touches my window

fields flooded
beneath the surface, somewhere
the river bends

a ship's running lights twinkle
among setting stars

dark, dark night
a leaf strikes the pavement
stem first

can you hear it
spilling from pool to pool?
river of stars

this purple flower
at last I
forget its name

A stream of thought pauses
on the stone buddha

a gecko chirps
soapsuds conceal the dark
circle of the drain