Moonku

The following are selected poems relating to the moon, mostly haiku and senryu, but also including one tanka, a solo rengay, and one longer poem. I read these poems at the annual Moon Viewing Festival at the Seattle Japanese Garden on 6 September 2014, at which I also cojudged the garden’s annual haiku contest. All poems are previously published.

still water—

the blue heron

steps in the moon                                                                   +

                                                                                                    full moon at midnight—

                                                                                                    a barn owl glides

                                                                                                    out of the slaughterhouse

cool summer night—

         a full moon

frames the bird feeder

                                                                                                    beneath the moon

                                                                                                    the heron’s slow step

                                                                                                    towards frog sound                        +       +

blue moon—

drips from the awning

keeping time

                                                                                                    moonless night—

                                                                                                    her guard dog barks

                                                                                                    at the new husband

ringing church bell—

moonlight dimmed

by a gentle snowfall

                                                                                                    the clackity-clack

                                                                                                    of the last roller-coaster—

                                                                                                    a crescent moon

moonlight breeze

                      young leaves

           barely waving

                                                                                                    summer moonlight

                                                                                                          the potter’s wheel

                                                                                                                slows

I am awake tonight

not because of a bright moon

or lovesickness,

but mere insomnia—and you,

you would not care the reason

                                                                                                    brighter

                                                                                                    than the bonfire

                                                                                                    moon in the sand

my window opens . . .

a hundred frogs

sing to the moon

                                                                                                    almost faded

                                                                                                    into sunlight

                                                                                                    old moon

day moon—

the prize pumpkin

lifted to the pickup

                                                                                                    rain again . . .

                                                                                                           the moon brightens

                                                                                                    the cloud’s other side

Night Flight

full moon—                                                                                                                                           +

along the runway

blue lights begin to blur

            turning after takeoff

            the moon disappears under the wing

for a moment below

in the Mississippi,

a white oval

the seat-belt sign

blinks back on with a beep—

the moon lost in clouds

            in-flight magazine:

            a four-letter word for lunar

movie over,

the moon lightens

the snow-capped mountains

Jim’s Jelly

The jar of jelly is Jim’s gift to me,                                                                                                               +

unexpected after he reads his poems, tells a few stories—

a gift like a wren that flits from musky rafters

to rest on my outstretched finger.

It’s a gift like this afternoon when my son said,

when he’s older, he’ll be able to reach the moon.