Brunch Renku

The following is a thirteen-verse renku, one verse per poet, written at a joint meeting of Haiku Northwest, the Port Townsend Haiku Group, and the Bellingham Haiku Group, held on 2 May 2010 at the Farmhouse Restaurant near La Connor, Washington. Renku led by Christopher Herold, who noted in email that this was “dashed off in the midst of eating, drinking, and conversation.” Participants were Alice Frampton, Ida Freilinger, Jay Haskins, Alison Hedlund, Christopher Herold, Carole MacRury, Tanya McDonald, Carol O’Dell, Carmie Soifer, Angela Terry, Doris H. Thurston, Tenzing Karma Wangchuk, and Michael Dylan Welch (my verse is “the moon through the window”; other authors are unidentified).


                computer crash
                now I can see
                the moon


                                        ducks splashing down
                                        fracture pond-stillness


                a v of jets
                cross the blue
                of the morning


                                        sitting down with her needlepoint
                                        she chooses her background colors


                cows stand
                low at the fence
                among scattered daisies


                                        photographs on the wall
                                        the shadows highlighted


                standing straight
                into the sky she feels
                the warm sun


                                        a bucket of beach sand
                                        upended in the shallows


                the moon through the window
                of the station wagon
                rowdy teenagers


                                        a new use for the wooden yoke
                                        restaurant décor


                fingerprint
                of eons in the grain
                of the kitchen table


                                        grandma’s copper kettle
                                        losing its luster


                he whistles
                and the garden tour assemblage
                quiets down