The following “Haiku from Index Cards” just might be moving. See also “Moving Day” (also made into a trifold).
moving day—
already missing
the neighbour’s roses
(written 1990, published 2016)
moving day—
a map of our destination
on top of a suitcase
(written 2002, published 2008)
moving day—
I hold my breath
to hang the wind chime
(written 2003, published 2003; see “Moving Day” sequence)
moving day—
perfect and imperfect leaves
under the backyard maple
(written 2002, published 2004)
moving day—
the coolness on my cheek
after your kiss
(written 2003, published 2003; see “Moving Day” sequence)
moving day—
the emptiness
of the child’s room
(written 2003, published 2003; see “Moving Day” sequence)