Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

The Painful Irony

Here I sit,
in my den,
reading Mary's latest book,
knowing that you,
five miles away,
are likely reading
one of Mary's books.
Though we may read
from the same books,
we are not
on the same page.
Though we share
much in common,
you allow one thing,
on which we disagree,
to keep us
from sharing
our lives together.
The irony is,
you likely feel
the exact same way
about me.

True haiku: Vision violation

parking violation:
car parked in the middle of the road;
driver peeing in the street

(dude in the waiting room)

dude in the waiting room
picking his nose and flicking
his findings onto the floor

A "color me happy" haiku:

eyes widen:
brilliant, cranberry-
orange-colored foliage

A haiku for a crisp, fall day like today:

the leaves mimicking
the sound of raindrops in the
wooded autumn hills