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Poetry: Haiku

On my evening walks.

Shrilling of cicadas
drowns out the soothing surf
of freeway traffic.

In the moonlight
the soccer field glints swampy
Oh no, my socks are wet!

They're moving out of Number 12
memories packed up
in Wridgways' boxes

Basket chair in silhouette
he perches on its edge
fingering his guitar.

Through the mist
the moon is a cavern
so icy my heartbeats echo.

The snake and I both dance in fear
she has grace
I jump comically.

Caught in the headlights
as I cross the road
glad I'm not a kangaroo.

Laughs from dark verandas
croaks from the creek
I march past, puffing slightly.

My muse did not walk with me tonight
she was indoors
watching Seinfeld.

I stumbled and fell
happily not on the road
but in the cool mud.

Can't hear what they're yelling
the football players
Wob wob wob!' it could be.

Learn more about this author, Geoff Foster.
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Poetry: Haiku

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Poetry: Haiku

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