June 2, 2021

Deborah A. Bennett

FIVE HAIKU IN SPRING

 

in this world of pain, 
even half a rainbow, even one
cherry blossom.

 

 

first day of spring—
a guitar case
full of change.

 

 

no offerings, 
my wooden bowl
awaits the morning dew.

 

 

an afternoon in spring—
don’t think your life 
didn’t matter.

 

 

to have died
and come back again,
cherry blossoms.

from Rattle #71, Spring 2021

__________

Deborah A. Bennett: “I began writing haiku shortly after I began reading it about ten years ago. The inspiring book I found at a library book sale was The Essential Haiku, edited by Robert Hass. I’d read and written free verse since I was a child but here was the form I found my identity in. A form rooted in Zen alertness and in close observation of nature. Haiku says so much with so little, and I think that’s what most fascinates me. Not only finding the words, but also the silence.” (web)

Rattle Logo

July 27, 2020

Deborah A. Bennett

FIVE HAIKU

for Summer

for the heart
very small things—
morning sparrows.

 

 

returning home—
path of the wind
through the lemongrass.

 

 

between two buildings.
one shaft of light. 
finds the linden tree. 

 

 

old summer nights—
weight of the mason jar
full of fireflies. 

 

 

over the house
where all my family is sleeping—
the full moon. 

from Rattle #68, Summer 2020

__________

Deborah A. Bennett: “I began writing haiku shortly after I began reading it about ten years ago. The inspiring book I found at a library booksale was The Essential Haiku, edited by Robert Hass. I’d read and written free verse since I was a child but here was the form I found my identity in. A form rooted in Zen alertness and in close observation of nature. Haiku says so much with so little, and I think that’s what most fascinates me. Not only finding the words, but also the silence.” (web)

Rattle Logo