Frogpond 32.2 • Summer 2009 (pdf) - Haiku Society of America

Backyard Pond, Brocaded Carpby Lisa Cihlar, WisconsinMy daily yard and garden tour. I carry fish pellets to the pond. Mylargest gold and black koi has died. The local raccoon got othersby feeling behind rocks and in crevasses with paws that looklike tiny desiccated human hands. He didn’t get this one. I knowbecause there are no half-eaten fish parts scattered in the grass.This fish just died, old age, some fish disease that I can’t fathom.It floats on the surface now, half-sheltered by a water-lily leaf,almost mistaken for a flower-bud. I scoop the body up in myhand, feel the roll of maggots under scales. I recoil, send it backinto the water and the dozen living carp of many colors cometo feast on the larvae, a free-floating meteor shower.Grant Park Jazz Galadragonflies swirl up, overimprovisationGod jul et godt nytt årby Bob Lucky, ChinaIn the margins of your Bible you penciled in comments inNorwegian. The writing is strong—the lines flow like theengravings on old Viking swords. You only taught me how tosay “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year” in your mothertongue, so your annotations are meaningless to me, as is theBible. I comfort myself by believing that when we die we gowherever we think we’re going. I’ll be staying here.prairie skya passing cloud turnsthe color of lefse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .50 Haiku Society of America