Holiday Haiku
From 1 December 2022 to 4 January 2023, thirty of my haiku were projected on a large screen at the Buoyant Pavilion stage at Redmond, Washington’s Downtown Park. They were part of the city’s 2022 Redmond Lights festival. A video of my poems, shown here, was projected four times an hour for six hours each night for the duration of the festival. Photos of the installation, showing each poem at least once, appear below in the order the poems appear in the video. All poems had been published previously. My gratitude to the City of Redmond for funding this installation and for the opportunity to share these seasonal poems in a public way. In 2007, I also published a small chapbook titled Holiday Haiku. See also Christmasku.
My artist’s statement, on the Redmond Lights website:
Holiday Haiku features 30 haiku and senryu poems celebrating both the warmth and the cold of the holiday and winter season. These poems offer reminders of common experiences you may have had in December or later during the winter. Take a moment to dwell in each poem and feel the personal moment it presents, responding with a smile or a nod of understanding.
My collection of “Holiday Haiku” was one of three installations projected four times an hour for six hours each night on the Buoyant Pavilion in Downtown Park in Redmond, Washington from 1 December 2022 to 4 January 2023.
first cold night—
the click of your domino
as we play by the fire
talk of snow—
the stems of roses
recently pruned
cold apartment—
through the long night
a neighbor’s cough
first frost . . .
a pair of shoes
left at the door
morning chill—
the bag of marbles
shifts on the shelf
first snow . . .
the children’s hangers
clatter in the closet
snow day—
your apple compote
bubbling on the stove
night
falling
snow
northern lights—
snow sifts
through the bird feeder
morning sun—
a patch of frost
in the Holstein’s shadow
December commute—
I catch the yawn
of the driver beside me
Christmas tree up—
I stir the skin
back into my soup
crackling fire—
a hint of eggnog
in your kiss
toll booth lit for Christmas—
from my hand to hers
warm change
home for Christmas:
my childhood desk drawer
empty
deep red sunset
on Christmas Eve
the phone’s sudden ring
Christmas morning
a drift of snow
through the sun porch
after-dinner mints
passed around the table...
slow-falling snow
a chime of bells
across the snowy field—
the horse’s breath
winter stillness . . .
a strand of tinsel
in the tilted pine
distant church bells . . .
a sparrow’s breath
lost in the holly berries
mountain morning—
all over the red berry bush
snow in tiny heaps
The Open Sky, 1997 Yuki Teikei Haiku Anthology
job interview—
the snow shovel
lifted from its hook
toboggan run—
I discover
my coccyx
warm winter evening—
the chairs askew
after the poetry reading
another frost—
in a poetry book I find
the peace of wild things
fresh snow—
a single candle burns
on the mahogany pulpit
winter light—
the barber’s breath
against my ear
sundog—
the toboggan’s pull rope
shiny at the bend
New Year’s Day—
the fresh snowfall
as white as my diary
