Frogpond 34.3 • Autumn 2011 (pdf) - Haiku Society of America

Touchdown
by Diana Webb, Leatherhead, England
I look out over a suburban garden-scape, each hedge like
a rough cut slice of cake with its glisten of thick white icing.
Soon here and there a window shines out lemon against
the paler light of snow. Softly again the fl akes begin to fall.
buddleia twigs point, sway a little, becoming witches’ fi ngers
casting the spell of the season deeper; down through this almost
motionless world to the day I turned sixteen, kept home
by the freeze as now. In quest of a magic garment to keep me
snug, my mother busy for days with a close-ribbed pattern and
a yarn of my choice called “moonstone.” She brought it up to
my room to surprise me with the gift of its swift completion.
Too tight for me now, kept safe in a plastic bag, I treasure it
as memento of her skill with needles, the glow of our wintry
isolation.
soundlessly
settling in the dark
moths
Photograph
by Dru Phillipou, Taos, New Mexico
It is an old gloss photograph, the two of us sitting on Tetilla
Peak, smiling at the camera. An image of the perfect couple:
their future together clear. The good times—lunch among the
scrub oak overlooking the meadow, his hand on my shoulder,
the new neon sunglasses, and the rain jackets billowing blue
and purple in the wind. All this has faded now, turning nearly
blank.
cutting fl owers
the sap runs
into my hand
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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