Haiku Written by Participants in Spring 2016 Intensive

   In April of 2016 we took a meditative haiku walk through the woods to Pelham Lake, following the Pelham Brook Trail to the Lake View Trail and then to the Williams Trail. The instructions were to remain silent, look attentively, hold visual observations for no more than five seconds then let go and move on, and compose a traditional 5-7-5-syllable haiku after returning to The Rowe Center. Jotting impressions on a piece of paper while walking was permitted. Here are the wonderful results:

Haiku from 2015-2017 Spiritual Guidance Program Cohort

Shared during April 2016 Intensive

 

Tall Pines, Broken branches

Tested by the elements

Soaring to the Sky

                             By Craig Hirshberg

 

 

“Dead End” and “STOP”

Human signs foreboding

Walk beyond with Life

                             By Craig Hirshberg

 

 

Fiddle dee dee heads

Slip slowly into steaming pot

They sing no longer

                             By Sarah Johnson

 

 

Minor pond reflects

Bark rolling off skin with

Polka dots and s’rooms

                             By Sarah Johnson

 

 

Leaves of trillium

Green of bright shoots from

Bed of sweet decay

                             By Sarah Johnson

 

 

A bouquet soft ears

Growing from a crack in stone

Above water falling down

                             By Sarah Johnson

 

 

Biting bugs of spring

Fly among trees and flowers

Outside my window

                             By Jim Totin

 

 

White petals open,

Leaves uncurl before my eyes,

Do you need a name?

                             By Jim Totin

 

 

A single rock sits,

Waiting for the tree to grow.

I feel the earth quake.

                             By Jim Totin

 

 

A pair of grown leaves

Alone on the barren tree,

The earth waits for them

                             By Jim Totin

 

 

Barren limbs raised high

White virgin blossoms of Springtime

The Ballet of Trees

                             By Chelsea Wakefield

 

Bee hive set on hill

Overlook these walls of stone.

The labors of men.

                             By Edith Allison

 

 

Decaying oak stands

Source for mushroom and shelter

Rebirth in process

                             By Edith Allison

 

 

Hands in deep pockets

Restrain balance and movement

The walker struggles.

                             By Edith Allison

 

 

Restraining her joy

Water invites Edith in

To the playful deep.

                             By Edith Allison

 

 

Air fresh off the stream

pool of equanimity

invite to strip and swim.

                             By Edith Allison

 

 

Flies buzzing around

I slam dunk them to the ground

They get up every round.

                             By Tricia Larkin

 

Roots Strike ancient chords—

Brook burbling harmonizes.

The universe sings.

                             By Frances Sink

 

 

May, black flies swarming.

Pay attention—life’s short.

June, black flies are gone.

                             By Frances Sink

 

 

Red mushroom platters

Offering up their beauty

Each serving NO-thing.

                             By Jean Tennyson

 

 

Birch bark as vessel

Slender, scrubbed trunk emerges

My soul comes alive.

                             By Julie Parker Amery

 

 

In stillness, swarm flies.

O Zen master, please forgive.

Best to keep moving.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

 

New England, in spring:

“Where two or more are gathered,

Flies are there also.”

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

Frog eggs at lake shore,

Jelly slime, soon a tadpole—

Basho’s frog reborn.

                             Author unidentified

 

 

The trees are so still

Silent Activity within

Buds waiting to burst

                             By Felicity Pickett

 

 

Looking across the

silent pond, I remember

to pay attention.

                             By Christian Elwell

 

 

Birch buds point the way

Arterial roots criss-cross

here we make our way.

                             By Sally Newell

 

 

Fall’s legacy bed

white quartz emerge like molars

logs melt back to earth.

                             By Sally Newell

 

 

New green fiddles rise

Amid old snows flattened ferns

Promises of spring

                             By Sally Newell

 

Ghost beech leaves quiver

Brook water rushes by spring deep

we pass silently

                             By Sally Newell

 

 

No Haiku today

Many friends, feeling puny

Hope better ‘morrow

                             By Teddy Jordan

 

 

Tree roots stretch across

the path, weaving a criss-cross

pattern on the way

                             By Teddy Jordan

 

 

Beautiful crystal

You are so rough and jagged

Yet pure light shines through

                             Author unidentified

 

 

Dead tree teems with life

Her body a love offering.

Use me, Lord, use me.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

 

Humble greys and browns

here and there, shocks of green:

gorgeous symphony.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

Through river boulders

Lying still like sleeping whales

All water paths are perfect.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

 

Woods in early spring

a battleground surrendered

where death is blessing.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

 

In the rooted pine

energy surging upward.

This is me also.

                             By Jenny Campbell

 

 

Spring blooms from fallow.

Brown, underground Rowe births life.

Soul greets own greening.

                             By Layne Racht

 

 

Moss covered tree trunk

branches like arthritic arms

reaching for the sky.

                             Author unidentified

 

 

             BEECHES…………..

Slender spears tip twigs:

New leaves, tightly furled, prepare

to enter the world.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

………….(CHIONODOXA)………….

Green blades carpet ground.

Blue stars peek out shyly:

Sky winks up from earth.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

Rock slice athwart stream:

music where movement meets form.

Water flows.  Moss grows.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

Swallows dart; pond smiles.

A quick beak dips, sips, then lifts.

Ripples circle out.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

Breezes excite pond:

waves of sparkling ecstasy

shiver praise to sun.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

How did a Birch tree

get this big?  So round and smooth.

Bigger than my hug.

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

What is the Life of

a dead pine tree, still partnered

with its Living twin?

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

Tree bole sits upon

giant boulder, bulging like a

Titan’s bum.  No roots?

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

(Am sure this is not a Haiku but this was at the end of Lark’s contributions)

 

A Pine and two Birches

grow into each other’s boles.

 

Two Pines and a Hemlock

merge at their base.

 

What new trinity

mutely manifests?

                             By Lark Hammond

 

 

Tiny baby trees

Stretching  yearning  wondering

Who will reach skies wind

                             By Sun Sue Fleming

 

 

eternal story:

   water gushes, rucks and pools

       worn boulders witness

                             By Ellen Dionna

 

troubled heart by day

    I want a night of owl dreams

        silent winged and free

                             By Ellen Dionna

 

 

woods meandering

    gifts of most beloved things:

        water, moss and stone

                             By Ellen Dionna

 

 

Moss painted on rocks

Stone walls open out—prayer

Forest speaks life, death.

                             By Joy Christi Przestwor

 

 

Islands in the midst

Land bathed in open roots

Ever coursing brook—life!

                             By Joy Christi Przestwor