These haiku are from my work in progress, Farm Song.
c.p.
Awake too early
the redwing sings
anyway
Losing shape
on the flat hot rock
wet handprints, wet footprints
From the hillside
a wood thrush
almost inaudible
Heat lightning
a warm gust pushes
into a warm room
Heading to the Woodslawn Farm fields with a baler on a hot mid-summer day many years ago.
