As with the previous haiku, this was written as part of a dedication when I gave a copy of my book to a friend. Years and years ago, I met and got to know him a little while we both still lived in Ukiah, California. He now lives in Colorado; I in Reno, Nevada. One never knows where life will lead. Wherever that may be, the scent and sight of autumn’s first rains in the hills around Ukiah will never be forgotten.

I recently found occasion to sign a copy of an inkling hope to an author who has over the years influenced my style and approach to poetry. When I did, I wrote this small dedication. His nom de plume is blended amongst the words and imagery.

Something small, a wee haiku. Bear Butte, sacred to many Amerindian tribes, is a rather striking geological formation in South Dakota.

And the second of the two haiku posted today. During winter, dew that settled during the night here in Ukiah will sometimes evaporate at sunrise into heavy mists that carpet neighborhood lawns and garden plots. This phenomenon lasts for a very short time—an hour tops—so I count myself lucky when I get to see it.

Two haiku today, posted separately. They were written on the fly to demonstrate the way a haiku should say nothing but show everything. Here’s the first of the two.

Treatises are better suited to poetic forms that grant space for explication. Of course, there are the rare haiku maxims that lodge within mind and recycle there almost indefinitely. But still, even those are usually in image form, avoiding overt exposition. And those maxim haiku are probably not really haiku anyway, but successful aphorisms.

Is it showing that I have a fever? Day three. I’m getting a bit tired of the dizzy delirium.

A wee haiku. I Love these things. This was inspired by the island mountains that rise from the desert floor in Nevada, Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico.