Jessica Lea

Haiku in Big Sur

 

Mist on my glasses

plants wearing heavy dewdrops

sound of rain on earth.

 

Drops hitting petals

leaves shaking, bending in breeze

smell of morning fog.

 

Woodpecker knocking

rustle of leaves, pinecones fall

hollowed tree echoes.

 

Descent of drizzle

crunch of grey boots on gravel

inhale the beauty.

 

Unwritten Thanks

 

The mostly naked

gratitude tree

rests

on the shelf

the paper leaves

I carefully cut and designed

piled at its base

reminds me

of mountains of leaves

I raked

jumped in

as a child

 

grateful to remember

the smell

of maples

and oaks

fallen pieces

moist

returning

to the ground

 

I rolled

surrounded

by the scent

of autumn

buried myself

hoping

to be absorbed

and born anew.