Haiku

February 3, 2020

 
Four Haiku

 

Day two of sunshine.

Light blue streaks splatter the sky.

It's thirty degrees.

Trails are hard packed ice.

Footprints of those before me,

like tracks in cement.

Question pitched bird song.

Then, a trill cry not from crane.

Must learn more bird calls.

Watching his tip-up ...

from warmth of Silverado.

Fisherman alone.

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