Thornewood PoemsA collection of haiku written on Sunday afternoon, 27 March 1994, at the Thornewood Open Space Preserve in Woodside, California (see the Wikipedia page). Many of these poems were published in various journals, appeared in Thornewood Poems (Foster City, California: Press Here, 1994) and in Thornewood Poems (Napanee, Ontario: Haiku Canada, 1998; same title as the 1994 publication, but with a different selection and format), and also appeared online at Captain Haiku’s Secret Hideout in 1997 (see old site). The 1994 chapbook includes an introduction explaining the genesis of these poems. The entire sequence has also been translated into Hungarian by Gergely László. You can read all of these poems translated into Romanian by Olimpia Iacob. Five of these poems also appeared in the book Haiku Meridians, translated by Olimpia Iacob.
Dedicated to the late D. Claire Gallagher, whose words inspired many of these poems
as she described the various flowers, trees, and other plants we saw together. a red berry on the trail I look up to the chickadee’s song
miner’s lettuce beside the trail— fallen toyon berries
a red toyon berry at the trail’s edge— the tinkle of a stream
first on the trail— the pull of a spider’s strand across my face
a switch-back in the trail— I glance at her face
a climbing pea has lassoed a blade of crab grass!
trail dust settles— a shooting star bobs over a spider’s turret
a slow breeze . . . sticky-monkey flower barely moving
noon sun— fallen bark moss swaying in a thistle
dried horseshoe prints more frequent by the blackberry bramble
passed from nose to nose, a torn leaf of pitcher sage
swaying in the shadows of the ancient oak, honeysuckle berries
lifting mugwort to her nose . . . the hangnail on her thumb
pausing on the trail— I run my hand through brush grass
white cabbage butterfly rises from scattered toyon berries through the horse’s hooves
the cool of shade— a swarm of midges brushes my arm
dried leaves on the trail— a thistle bends in fern shadow
broken to the heartwood— an old meadow elm after thunder
stopping on the footbridge to gaze at still pools— a sparrow’s wings flutter
voices on the trail . . . the heap of deadwood clogging the stream
blossoms in the wind-shadow a hiker stops to sip his water
dried thistle bent across the trail . . . trill of distant chickadee
between the brambles, a fern’s curve up the trail
before I sit, I blow an ant from the stump’s center
a turn in the trail— sky in the branches of red madrone
scent of jasmine . . . a butterfly’s shadow over trail mud
just off the wood path, a mouse’s bones under a curled leaf
first glimpse— white swan in the forest pool
valley coolness— the trail widens near the wooded pond
clouds of pollen drifting through sunbeams— a sparrow’s sudden flight
the web between stumps— a tree frog answers the pond frog
stones on the trail . . . a downy feather wafts in the breeze
new shoots on the big-leaf maple— how blue the sky, how blue
a mushroom cap tilting in the sun— I feel for my bald spot
a white swan shakes her tail at last the ripples reach her mate
jays squawk from redwood tops— the hush of distant traffic
water striders keep turning back from the weir’s edge
at the trail’s end, the way we sit beneath the redwoods
late afternoon sun— jumping in the leaf pile to hear the crunch
roots exposed at the trail’s edge . . . a banana slug’s path
afternoon shade— moss rubbed off where the branches touch
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