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Poet in a Lawn Chair

haiku by Dan Lukiv

The grey lake,
Filling up with

In shade, a blackfly
Buzzes about my head--
Then itís gone.

Such silence,
This silver-flat lake--
Then a trout leaps.

A quarter moon
In this midnight-blue sky:
We walk and smell pine.

In the smell of forest

Inside, my wife pounds
Beethoven; outside, seagulls

Roar in the distance:
Giant buzzing flies.

Excitedly I
Pluck one of our onions--
Wiggling worms stick out.

Hay rolls
In hay fields: jelly rolls
For giants.

Big as tractors
Litter hay fields.

Their tails straight up--
What do these ducks see
Down there?

In this quiet room,
I open the window--

Poet in a lawn chair,
Sleeping, pen in hand,
Mouth open.

Children swing and laugh:
I close my eyes and I am
There, laughing too.

A girl in the park
Cries: gulls nearby eat garbage,
Ignore her.

Poet in a lawn chair:
His pen lies in tall grass
As he still sleeps.

A double rainbow:
If only today could
Be special.

A cowboy yodels
That strange language. Why
Do my tears well up?

Cleaning out the shed--
Old toys of children moved on.
I stop, catch my breath.

We buried grandpa--
Still his wind-up watch ticks
On the dresser.

Caterpillars chew--
The sound of green leaves

Poet in a lawnchair--
A niece looks closely and asks,
"Mummy, has he died?"

Crisscrossing trees
Strewn on dry gravel--
Run-off long gone.

"I hate thunder."
"So do I." "Me too."
Why donít I?

On dying flowers,
Little bees wiggling
In the snap of fall.

Cloud to cloud--
No sound.

Pounding rain
On our sagging tent:
We hold hands.

I love thunder,
The way it rattles windows,
Makes me afraid.

Seated on a bench--
A curly-haired woman
And her poodle.

Waddling geese
Honk at sunrise-golfers,
Sound angry.

Dan Lukiv is a writer, educator, and frequent contributor to canadian content.

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