Haiku Written by Participants

   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




Slender spears tip twigs:

New leaves, tightly furled, prepare

to enter the world.

                             By Lark Hammond




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