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

Email to a Birdwatcher
by Ray Rasmussen, Edmonton, Alberta
Dear Sir. I found your name listed as the local president of the
Edmonton Bird Society. I know the robin is one of the most
melodic of the thrush family and I should be overwhelmed by
the bird’s ode to joy, but why, I wonder, can’t the robin sing
at a more decent hour, when people are already up and about?
And why can’t I have a hermit thrush instead? From its name,
I assume that it’s a solitary bird—one that would not trumpet
its love songs at 4:30 a.m.
I’m not one to complain, so this morning I’ve been pondering
solutions. What about a line of breadcrumbs from my
back yard to the neighbor’s—the one who releases her yappy,
rodent-sized dogs at precisely 6:30 a.m. Why not let my robin
bugle her awake?
And, what, you might be wondering, do you have to do with
all of this? A bit of advice, please. What type of bread crumbs
should I use: plain, garlic or arsenic-laced?
dark clouds
the robin gulps down
my raspberries
Remnants of Dreaming
by Hortensia Anderson, New York, New York
Through marbled grey-white skies, the crow reaches my windowsill.
His beak taps at the glass until drowsing, I reach for
the haiku it left as it fl ew away:
dreamcatcher—
a violet slides from
a black feather
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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