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Just a short ride for me, but might as well be teleporting for him...

bewildered backpack bug
an unintended ride
a downtown bound train

The first of soon-to-be-many...

lone bearded iris
a teasing promise in its
precocious pop

I nearly missed them:
bright green already bleeds through
spring's fading blossoms

I often feel guilty when the weather's nice, that pressure to make the most of it. I like the occasional rainy day that encourages rest.

steady spring rain
the grey sky grants permission
to simply watch it fall

I know plenty of people in my neighborhood have Japanese maples, but I didn't know there were *that* many...

maple whirligigs
messages in tiny bottles
wind-washed to my yard

A day late and a dollar short, since National Haiku Day was yesterday, but still:

Today's haiku day:
celebrate poems packaged
in tiny bundles

thehaikufoundation.org/events/

bottle green beetles
guide better than the blazes
along the green trail

I just hope they were these harmless ones, and not Emerald Ash Borers... 😬

Cicindela sexguttata - Six-spotted Tiger Beetle
bugguide.net/node/view/605

one's time has passed,
the other's has yet to come:
blossoms on a seed bed

incoming spring storm
normally docile windchimes
now sound the alarm

The system that caused deadly tornadoes in the midwest has weakened, but we're still feeling the remnants.

ancient instinct
burrow deeper into bed
as the spring storm gusts

After several years, the woody, stubborn shrub was well & truly dead. I think a couple of frigid spells during this otherwise mild winter finally did it in.

its scent lingers -
rosemary for remembrance -
as i rip it out

little miracles:
sprouted seeds, straining towards
springtime's still-pale sun

We've barely had a winter in my area this year, so my friends and I were shocked to see some flurries yesterday afternoon.

winter's long goodbye
the half-hearted splatter
of windshield sleet

no clock but its own
the crocus knows no cares
but sun, soil, and rain

Took advantage of today's unusually warm weather to tidy the beds a bit.

drear, dry, and withered
amid winter's skeletons
a tip of green

monotony
grey day like any other
last day of the year

an eerie quiet
settles on the city with the
frigid purple dusk

procrastination:
doing all the things in the world
except what i should

calm after the storm
mellow golden sunset
the eaves still dripping

after a freezing night
both the car and i only
grudgingly start

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HaikuHedgehog

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