Hazel and Ivy Haikus
This series received a National Silver Medal From Scholastic

After the Birds Have Gone Home

Sparrows gather ‘round

and discuss a life’s voyage-

the length of a breath

Letters burn to ash-

do the ravens chat about

our chimney headlines?

Gentle eulogy-

lonesome hummingbirds and me,

we both sip our tea

I’m still not sure what

this story will be after

the birds have gone home

The children-will they

sing our words to the willows,

long after we’ve left?

Watered by Sea Glass

Lilies in the house-

the cluttered cobwebs are cleared

before quietus

Rain rolls down willows-

their branches weep only in

their most nourished state

Just in our dreamland-

we climb our roots as children

canvas the ruins

Greenery through glass-

footsteps in the sealed attic-

I can’t reach myself

Even now, I think

I could breathe underwater

longer than ashore

Lost in the Earth

The kitchen scissors

cut my hair and the flowers

‘til at last, they dull

My doorbell spoils

birdsong within and beyond

this barren home

The full moon declines

in mimicry of lost ships

and slow-sunken stars

I scale the fish scales

atop my cluttered roof and

still cannot see the shore

I can’t remember

where the rivers used to run

past my ivy veins

This Love

Each branch sways ‘neath night-

we’ve yet to mimic this song,

even while dreaming

This Loveless Place

I pray you don’t see

my hand on the horizon

in this loveless place

Starting, restarting-

tidal waves collapse onto

my stained, severed hands

Identical deaths-

born from ink and this green flash

you would never see

Buried below sand

and unresponsive to the

world of blue we lost

Forget-me-nots rise-

I would know you anywhere-

just a buried bloom

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