Sketches from Travel

Now I'm really scraping the bottom, as to lines I can own without much shame. The following group of Haiku was my diary of an interstate trip one summer in the 1990s. They are, thank God, the only serious Haiku I ever attempted.

I
morning sun, diffused
in misty woods, joins gloom to
liquid light

II
headlamps in fog less
light my way than show others
where I am

III
fish-flies swarm for miles
above the road, like a highway
in the sky

IV
summer-surfeited:
how gladly my burnt bones greet
thunder’s knock

V
dead bird at roadside:
your nest unbuilt, unguarded—
what of mine?

VI
as each truck passes
how the bridge shakes: man’s mighty
works and craft

VII
rain on the windshield
wipes the road away: nature
thwarting man