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Back to the Modern American Haiku Poets

Jane Rechhold's Haiku


a bit of sky
pushed aside
the new house

a camera's flash
long after the eyes close
in old photographs

a full moon
resting on hoary-frost meadows
tundra swans

a huge wave
thundering across the beach
my birthday

a kite
raising from sea mists
rainbow colors

a little spilled wine
ageless women in the circle
of a full moon

a love affair
building a fire
in a strange stove

a new calendar
my unlived days
already numbered

a new year
rising from wild seas
a few stars

a pile of cards
the inner glow of lights
in a crystal

a shower of diamonds
my birthday gift
from a snowy branch

a son's call
white waves of long distance
returning to shore

a south wind
polishing my face clean
for this journey

a summer breeze
rises over the sea cliff
pulled by a kite

a time of beaches
abalone shells and lovers
without memories

a vegetarian
with legs crossed in zazen
the roasting chicken

a wall of water
curves and crashes
a whale

a watch
left out in the rain

a yellow cat
stalking the coward
in the mirror

abandoned theater
the moon spotlights
a frog-prince

the dialysis machine
a withered plant

above flying seas
a swarm of black birds
in spindrift

above the snow
at the level of bird song
spring begins

across the canyon
the neighbor hammers
on an echo

after lovemaking
all is quiet until
rain begins again

after lovemaking
hail falls between us
she buttons her blouse

after the shower
the smell of pine soap
in the forest

after the solstice
cleaning the house
trimming wicks

afternoon boredom
the woman ties shells
on her straw hat

afternoon rain
into my sleep
your pencil moves

air of rain
filled with drops
of bird song

All Saints' Day
filling the pumpkin's eyes
with raindrops

All Saints' Day
goblins and witches baptized
with holy names

All Saints' Day
pumpkin-grin fangs
gone with the werewolf

All Saints' Day
the Jack-o-lantern
full of gnats

All Saints' Day
the moldy pumpkin
grins with a harelip

All Souls' Day
the end table

but not alone
the sun - the moon

going to sleep with a grin
on the pumpkin

along with rain
going down the mountain
to the sea

an altar candle
lit for your soul journey
warms my hands

an old friend
chinkapin burrs open
on smooth fruits

an old sea crone
remembering mermaid tales
as true

an old woman
buying a balloon
the last one

an old woman
carrying a balloon
huffs and puffs

an old woman
the harshness of winter
in her hands

an open mouth
funeral bells fill
earth gap

anchoring the light
I let the moon slip
into the sea

ancient cypress
leaning over the light
at sunrise

ancient shrine
just a roof
upon the path

mirroring on TV
gone with the wind

April snow
black plowed earth
turned to white

April winds
a birth announcement
in the wrong mail box

arching into the sky
the wave leaves
more blue

articulate snoring
sea lions sleep in

as people cry
the ocean roars
"no oil wells!"

as the tide ebbs
fishermen appear
on the sand

surrounded by things
that don't

asleep on the sand
the smell of the sea
in my hand

at dusk
a hand waves good-bye
he owl's wing

at the ocean
in your white hand
tears drown

autumn rain
walking about in stocking feet
tasting the soup

baby's ancient face
wrinkled and sexless

back home
the bookmark in his bible
does not move

backpack of books
the schoolboy becomes
a deformed monster

balance act
with a gust of wind
a crash of bowls

ballet movies
all night her dreams

be begin the year
fresh sheets of winter's night

beach afternoon
school girls drinking
from a paper bag

beach breakfast
at-home foods taste
of the sea

beach meditation
alone and then joined
by the sun

beach meditation
complete with the cold
feet of flies

beach peace
yet over a flat rock
two seals fight

beach picnic
between bites
haiku – sand

beach secrets
where the sunlight hides
the blue in shadows

bee lines
exciting the air
between flowers

Beethoven's Fifth
the cat gives birth
to another kitten

before us
the road flown
by two sea gulls

in the natal place
a uterus opens

bird song
eaten by the silence
of a cat

filled with air
fly into it

birthday beach walk
wetted by a wave
born again

black ink
the many poems dye
my hair white

blood relatives
for thanksgiving dinner
red beets

blushing a bit
the rising spring sun
on the robin's breast

bodies buried
and now the house belongs
to someone else

bored with winter
a beach walk finds
abandoned toys

breakfast coffee
the excitement of an ocean
in my cup

climbing to the pagoda

the flooded river
my fears

bubbles and branches
ice moving
the I Ching hexagram

burial ground
naked trees
veil the sunrise

buried here
autumn woods are full
of ancestors

canyon rim
something in me flies
over precipices

champagne bubbles
fifty years
up my nose

champagne sleep
tolling bells ring out
the old year

hidden on the ceiling
pagan symbols

a sleigh draws homeward
all my thoughts

clods from the grave
sweet potatoes piled in a field
join at the fence

curved in sea foam

flooding the river
with spring

the sky divided
into puddles

touching the sea
with rain

coming home

coming late
a birthday gift
of sour plums

crossroads cemetery
the old man asks
the way home

with kittens

curve of the sea
cupping her breasts
cold hands

cut crystal rainbow
shining where he wanted
to touch her

dark moon
something moves deep with
a carrot seed

the person you love
is not perfect

Death Valley
emigrant tombstones
mountain peaks

death watch
one thread

desert death
stretched to the horizon

desiring you
rain drums
in my ears

doctor's office
the new mother sings
off key

door chimes
the spring spider moves
eight legs

doors to the sea
the pearly gates
of the snail

women at the bar
bleached and scarred

driftwood lair
lovers hidden from view
found by the wind

spring rain and your body
in mine

drought year
ends with champagne

dusting the dresser
a gown which shared
our passion

each white wave
mounts the black rock

early autumn day
just right for throwing away
old tennis shoes

early morning rain
the dry sound inside the cabin
of oatmeal cooking

early spring
only the hoe handle
is warm to touch

each spot layered
with stories

earth day
my pencil bounces
as a tree falls

Easter bunny
leaving a basket
of kittens

Easter morning mountain
my shadow crosses
Death Valley

eating out
clinging to my skirt
blanket fuzz

ebbing tide
on the flat rock
one more seal

edge of the cliff
the old couple discuss
going home

eggshells ash bone
the white of the moon
a witch's spell

evening deepens
the tan on her legs
with vericose veins

into eyes

condolence cards
the sting

faint shadows
on the earth at eclipse
soap bubbles

falling down
the mums not picked
because you've gone

falling from the wreath

feeling older
the new calendar doesn't fit
the dirty wall

fifty years
not remembering which
toothbrush is his

the glass with candlelight

first day of school
her bare foot tracks
still on the beach

first day of school
on the mountain ridge
clouds without thunder

first light
damp with the roar
of an incoming tide

flickering shadows
the way children imitate
ballet dancers on TV

flight delayed
airport carols
"angels we have heard on high.."

flood waters
filling on a deserted island
a wine bottle

flooded river
sides flowing together
lovers touch

between you
and the bees

flute notes
in spirit rocks

for dad
selling his house
setting a stone

for sale signs
yet nobody can own
the river

forgetting where
the family stone
sinks in

freezing rain
another breakdown
in the dialysis machine

freshly washed jeans
haiku in the pocket
are also clean

from afar
a bird's beak opening
the gentle air

from India
the strange white bird
in a yoga position

gaining weight
the world thicker
with snow

ghost town
in an abandoned orchard
fresh apples

giving the old cat
a dish of cream
mother's day

going around
the bent woman
at the corner

going into dark times
children dressed as grown-ups

gone fishing
the fly-specked sign hangs
from one corner

gradually warming
the beach sand
the sleep of seals

squeezing on her driver's license
a long name

gives the Jack-o-lantern
his snag-toothed grin

the unmade burp
invents a smile

heavy surf
that sound i heard just before
being born

hello to the sea
and already my pockets
full of shells

her long thumbnail
fallow fields lie empty
with snow

high mountain village
church organ reedy as willows
the noisy brook

high noon
finally I am warm enough
for flies to sit on me

high tide
the secret script
of driftwood scraps

high winds
of flight

his body a bow
his arrow shot me
full of flowers

his grave
covered with
my sky

his grave
filled with
his earth

holy ground
city folks on the beach
remove their shoes

homecoming night
autumn rains driving my parents
to the nursing home

hot flashes
blushes of youth
getting old

how snugly
this new ice fits
the old pond

howling tomcats
two old guys discussing

huckleberry jam
all the tiredness
up in jars

huddled on the beach
the sated woman forgets
she is a lady

in a mirror
her wrinkles do not mar
the smooth surface

in a mouse nest
one pink nose
on a cat

in and out
of the river's mouth
a tongue of sea

in fingers
the sound of a wrist
counting my blood

in healing waters
old bodies

in her hands
the old woman's
winter pain

in one sky
x-ray photos of sea shells
wet wisps of fog

in rows
bees and his lips
at harmonica holes

in the photo album
my mother's face
before i knew her

in the tub
the day before
being born

incoming tide
bends on the beach

Indian country
sign on a winding road
a broken arrow

spring clouds blow over
packed suitcases

kite string
tightly rolled
first day of school

during the death watch
a dropped stitch

to Ohio
these trees

last day of the year
walking a country lane
to the end of it

last days
as thin as her skin
loose on bones

last kiss
her reason to be
so cold

last of the year
the ferry boat leaves
for another shore

last sip
bitter taste of earth
in the water

last warmth of sun
breathing exercises
for menopause nerves

late afternoon
afraid to take nap
while visiting graves

late to church
daylight saving
unholy times

leaving a book
blind hands touch
closed eyes

leaving the cemetery
on frost-cracked soil

take from the springs

low tide
left on the beach

low tide weather
salt-stained trouser legs
sandy pockets of air

low-tide rocks
the sun in a rack of clouds
far out at sea

low-tide rocks
town folks going home
with few groceries

time by the brook

lying in a river
words of love
in the current

lying on the beach
arms spread - legs together
a starfish

March rains
filling the zodiac
with fish

Memorial Day
the honored guests slept
through the parade

mission spirits
in swallows and pigeons
birds of paradise

softens the hills
incoming waves

mom leaves
the door partly open
her many years

shaping the moonlight

moon mirror
reflecting a wrinkled face
born the same day

moonlight moving
with the gate as the servant girl
takes an evening

a touch of sea waves
the moon melts

wetted by the splash
of small waves

morning magic show
now you see the baby rabbits
now you don't

morning trees
feeling the woodcutters
coming to work

mossy rocks
the empty side
of the ocean

Mother's day
give-away puppies escaping
the banana box

Mother's Day
giving the old cat
a dish of cream

mountain echo
I'm older
when I hear it

my age
spoken four years ago
a younger sound

my chair
too small for the cat
by a tail and a leg

my life-
a superabundance of stars
one good eye

my parents
their breath gone
yet the wind blows

new teeth
a beach picnic blessed
with sand

New Year's Day
a wind-blown twig
writing on snow

New Year's Day
granola breakfast special
with chocolate chips

New Year's Day
meeting the neighbor's smile
with cold on my teeth

New Year's Day
no resolutions for me
I've shoveled snow

New Year's Day
tarnish on the silver mirror

New Year's Day
waking together
in the dream

New Year's Eve
on the country porch the sound
of a full moon

New Year's morning
the first day begins
in the same dream

no April Fools
these crocus buds closed
against the snow

no more breath
falling from the vase
a pink rose petal

ocean fog
fishing boats
in the sky

ocean fog
in the broken sign

October sun
deep in the doorway
deep in the pumpkins

roads so straight
heaven goes down them

skies too wide
for one weather

old maid's tea
pouring boiling water
on unopened flowers

on a bridge
a young couple discuss
old lovers

on the island
no one goes to

one bird
its cry so human

one ear
listening to the river
wet with rain

open grave
frost air penetrates
deep into earth

open grave
the iron shovel lifts
autumn fragrance

open window
the cat stares into space
as the guru speaks

an explosion of flowers
in wind chimes

out of the cemetery
the first laugh
a cold wind

its circle of ice
spring pond

overlooking the place
where i had my first kiss
the old folks home

renting a canoe
and a moon

old puss purrs
on her chest

panty hose
she crosses her legs
with whispers

your words open
the iris

a color of trees
wet with rain

signing secret names
in wet sand

the graves
without film

played on a harmonium
the old gospel songs
squeeze out tears

protesters gather
on skateboards and crutches
"no oil rigs here!"

putting on lipstick
before writing the letter
white-glove lady

quiet waters
frogs all listening
to my shower

covering his grave
a soft cloud

idle fingers strumming
the dulcimer

opening the window
a light heart

rain dripping
one hour
into another

rain drops
a cathedral roof
on the cabin

rain drops
falling around the bed
her hair pins

rain erases time
one hour reused
the whole day long

rain gusts
the electricity goes
on and off

rain on the roof
wet around us
on the sheets

rain shower
afterwards he reads to me
all of his poems

recycling old glass
the rocky beach

red knuckles
clay around the cup
of rose hip tea

rented house
the ocean's roar
in mother's womb

returning year after year
to this one place
chestnuts and harvesters

the lake ear listening
to us

river ripples
in the tiniest
fish scales

river valley
letting the sunrise
into the sea

river winds
flipping white pages
without poems

rocks twist
the river smoothes
each one

rolling r's
the voice of the sea
on a rocky beach

run way
a nail bitten down
to the quick

running away
from four corners of the roof
patter of rain

Saturday rain
the desire to buy something

exciting the air
with sunlight

saying goodbye
a salt wind swallows
the words

among driftwood

sea downs
fog leaving
the view

sea fog
walking the valley
with empty hands

sea gulls
soaring above cliffs
freshly painted

sea lion's mouth
the dawn inside the yawn
salmon pink

seaside house
in a sunny corner
waves of warmth

she lifts her head
a tapping at the window
is only rain

sickroom feeling
the fake formica

around the old couple
all their repeated words

between old folks
no longer breathing

gentle sounds of rain
silence a voice

the new-born comes wrapped
in previous lives

following the tide
to the moon

sliver of moon
a peeled willow wand
in a boy's hand

smoothed by seas
a nearly round rock
points homeward

it barely covers
end of the year

snow flakes falling
each alone
mother's day

digging out

bowing down
to spring

so easy to love
yet she always fumbles
locks and keys

so much rain
this year how the kids
have grown

the oxygen tank

songs of sorrow
the harp string breaks
the fall of tears

soup bubbles
the past lives of vegetables
throbbing with heat

spilled wine
finger prints on the glass

the world tied together
with double helixes

the urge to scratch
the earth with a hoe

spring storms
at their climax
thunder rolls away

spring sunshine
the snowman too
loses his head

spring sunshine
the strangeness of his perfectly
normal thumbnail

spring sunshine
warming the wool
of winter socks

stained glass
above the baptismal font
a babe spotted red

standing still
his glance begins
the dance

static electricity
garbled introductions
they lean together

staying on the beach
so long it forgets
I am here

still standing
where others lived
abandoned cabin

strawberries planted
the blister on her palm
glows bright red

such a storm!
falling on the roof
all the stars

sun rise
giving me a new name
and a shadow

sunday morning
all the waves in white
kneeling on the beach

trying to paint highlights
on tops of waves

sunny sea winds
shoulders ache
for the want of wings

pouring into the valley

illumination of other worlds

surf fishing
when they saw our catch
beer appeared

surf rolls
power in the sand
low-flying birds

surf's surge and boom
brushing my teeth
in a stranger's bathroom

tangled in sleep
on a sea weed strewn beach

tears watering flowers
i'll never see again
death morning

telephone call
the addressed Easter card
not to be sent

tending the graves
the dirt under my nails
is just a beginning

thanks giving
the first cup of water
tipped to the earth

Thanksgiving Day
after the storm

thanksgiving day
an old couple on the pier

that too
a present of sour plums
on my birthday

the beach
humming a song
without words

the cold wind
now part of the day
at the beach

the daughter's call
about her divorce

the godless month
busy with preparations
for Christmas

the long day
holding my eyes
against the sky

the new couple
one looks upstream
the other down

the old man shaves
then crawls into bed
with his old wife

the sound of surf
someone walking
on trackless sand

the sun rises
petting a yellow cat
with warmth

the widow
taking swimming lessons
from the life guard

their eyes closed
to a million dollar view
a seaside cemetery

these long days
watching the sky fade
with closed eyes

this time
grandfather's death
faces me

threading a needle
on new year's day
the spool unwinds

the sky saying "boo"
on Halloween

tide full
leaving the beach
to a crying gull

tide pool still
as if it is tomorrow
I'm not here

tide turning
around rocks
around the sea

till death turns to face me
i'll write behind his back
laugh lines

to leave Ohio
buckling up
the seat belt

something for others
to look at

the body arching the abyss

taken by the view

neither night nor day
frogs and bats

unable to sleep
the Jack-o-lantern watches
us all night

unpainted porch
fog comes
to a closed door

unwanted child
wearing a name
that doesn't fit

up and down
driftwood lairs of lovers
come and go

vacant stares
from the vacant house
no one looks

visiting graves
the stone at dusk

counting the sea lions
in 'their' cove

voices along the road
after the school bus goes by
only birds

waiting for guests
a corner of the rug
keeps turning up

waiting for the wave
a killdeer practices his cry
of surprise

waiting room
a patch of sunlight
wears out the chairs

walking away the cold
abandoned in the next cove
a sweatshirt

walking the land
that has taken my parents
their years

walking to work
our sleeves touch
starch on silk

warm under quilts
the young couple lie quiet
in the place of one

washing the newborn
ties with rainwater
cloud to earth

water colors
the flute concert
steals gray

watercolor paper
stopping a wave
with a brush

delicate forms
for a spirit

whispering welcome
to our winter-weary selves
returning geese

my ancestors turning to larva
under the mounds

white ghost waves
rocky river ripples
roll upstream

white surf
wanting to keep the ocean free
of oil wells

white with foam
the ocean enters
the river's mouth

tangling bare
black trees

wind broken
the bent branch
falls to the roots

wind in the willows
ghost of a woman
basket gathering

windless surf
how easily the old folks
are entertained

windshield wiper
not brushing away
the tears

wings of dawn
birds unfolding
the light

winter begins
leaving me alone
with autumn

winter night
only the candle
reads my poems

winter solstice
finding a new point
for accupressure

winter sun
the hour's angle

winter twilight
gathers in her lap
white folded hands

with cold fingers
writing down words
everyone knows

within this egg
festival of the seventh day
a heart beats

without a lamp
the moonlight turns
my hair white

without love
sea kelp growing
a holdfast

woman and her pillow
curled around a notebook
dawn's first light

wrinkling up
along the shore line
an old ocean

writing her memoirs
the aged poetress reads
her first haiku

young poet gives
to Jane his book of poems
"For Maggy, with love"