Haiku by Jerry Kilbride, Terebess Asia Online (TAO)

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Jerry Kilbride (1930-2005)
Selected Haiku

end of a long day
the old bartender's feet
take the floorboards home

cloud shadows
on silent cliffs
where condors nested

humid summer night
the small town casts a glow
on slow-moving clouds

fog . . .
just the tree and I
at the bus stop

windows filled with light
at the home for the blind,
christmas night

nursing a friend with AIDS
I close the window
against rain

last flutter
of the butterfly
in the mime’s hand

mime
lifting
fog

jumping rope
the little girl and her shadow
touch touch touch touch touch

from winter storage
the prow of the canoe
entering sunlight

home from a journey,
my reflection in the glass
on the front door

mounted butterflies
snowflakes
through the window

mother lode country,
each morning my eyes search
the same mountain

small box from japan
the smile of the clay buddha
through the packing straw

still in the taste
of afternoon tea . . .
my grandmother's brogue

the cool surface
of each potato planted -
dark of the moon

firecrackers,
the old soldier's fingers
tighten on his crutch

the wheelchair child
reaches for bubbles
she just blew

the nurse speaks of christmas
red lights on the catscan
go on and off

the harpist
picks a fly
out of her spaghetti