Cattails, April 2026

food insecurity

the empty throat pouch

of a nutcracker

fifth instar the nymph i once was

hospice window

the see-through skeletons

of by-the-wind sailors

shafts of light

flicker across the floor . . .

my kitten

never quite captures

her elusive enemy

Cattails, October 2025

summer romance this fling of migrating sandpipers

twilit meadow the blue songs of larkspur

sun on sand

and the laughter

of children,

plastic buckets filled

with unmade castles

Cattails, April 2025

nurses move her

to a private room . . .

blackthorn winter

starless night . . .

sparks from our campfire

transforming

into constellations

we have no time to name

Cattails, October 2024

My thanks to David Kelly for selecting the following senryu as an Editor's Choice:

probate

a prickle of burrs

in the dogs' tail

Commentary:

On first reading, this piece by Debbie Strange appears a simple comparison. However, having heard of other people's experiences of probate, this poem came to life as I revisited those stories. The law appears so insensitive to people suffering grief. It must be difficult enough, trying to straighten the financial affairs of a loved one once they have died, without having to jump through a myriad of legal hoops. The single word, 'probate' must surely strike dread into the hearts of those who have wrestled with it before. To my mind, the thorny tangle of legislation around probate matches, so very neatly, the mess that burrs can make in a dog's tail.

apricity curling myself into it

candle ice

our paddles break it

into music

and still

I am cut to the heart

by these blades

of wild iris swaying

around your tomb

Cattails, April 2024

the veins

inside a darter's wings . . .

red quartzite

carrion crows

the group becomes

a mob

ice shards jostle

against each other

on the shore,

a symphony played

for no one but me

coins of light

freckling the footpath

to your grave . . .

our granddaughter tries

to put one in her pocket

 

Cattails, October 2023

rogue wave

a limpet holds on

tighter

mountaineering

owl-eyed tents light up

the night

little sisters

cover their smiles

with yellow fans

the ginkgo's leaves

were made for this

jackrabbits

frolicking in the snow

around your grave

there will be time enough

tomorrow for my tears

The Haiku Foundation, Haiku of the Day (formerly Per Diem), September 2023

Selected by Marianne Dupre for the theme of "Fall": September 28, 2023

harvest moon . . .

the cat's whiskers sparkle

with grain dust

Cattails, January 2014

Cattails, April 2023

shifting fog

a puffin's beak

emerges first

sedimentary rock

they say I should be

moving forward

little finch,

your spark nearly hidden

by falling snow . . .

how nameless songs

kindle the fire within

 

Cattails, October 2022

shore lunch

we pan-fry fillets

of the past

rift valley

grief pulls us apart

at the seams

a fountain

of white magnolias

spilling rain

my tears salt the words

meant for your eulogy

forests know

how to communicate

in silence

we press our ears against

the loamy earth and listen

 

Cattails, April 2022

bomb squad another robot bleeds to death

fractured identity he slips in and out of her mind

tent caterpillars

this jumble of roads

leading nowhere

we wrap

our arms around

each other . . .

sun dogs embrace

the ice-splintered sky

in silence

she crochets by the fire

lacy snowflakes

drift softer than breath

onto her apron

Cattails, October 2021

a wounded crow

pecks at our casement

we open

our shutters and invite

the darkness in

a sheaf

of bamboo strips ready

for weaving

we bend to the task

of shaping each other

the blue lining

of a cormorant's mouth . . .

gap-toothed pier

deserted shack

finger paintings grace

every wall

the vitriol

of (un)social media . . .

spittlebugs

 

Cattails, April 2021

a fireball

illuminates the dark

life streaks by

before we know

what to make of it

I have learned

how to keep silent . . .

these pebbles

under my tongue

seasoned with rue

candle ice the way you blow hot and cold

frigid weather

a red rose shatters

on impact

Editor's Choice

This haiku took me back to an educational video that I had seen long ago, where a rose shattered after being dipped in liquid nitrogen. A startling observation by Debbie Strange from Canada, where frigid weather is the norm for a good part of the year and the cold freezes the red rose enough to shatter it on impact. The poet uses a powerful and unique image here. On another level, the use of 'red rose' and its various allusions cannot be escaped by the reader. Thank you Debbie Strange, for the many possible readings.

—Geethanjali Rajan

 

Cattails, October 2020

Thrilled to provide the cover and interior butterfly photos for this issue! My thanks to Mike Montreuil for the invitation.

Cover

Tanka Section

watermarks

paint the canyon walls . . .

my chanting

reverberates until

I am one with sound

by and by

I promise to tell you

everything

but for now, let us listen . . .

nature is speaking

Editor's Choice

It's strictly coincidence that two of my Editor's Choice selections are written by Canadians. This one, by Debbie Strange, drew me in with its musical 'by and by' followed by a hint that she might be ready to share a secret. Who can resist reading further?

Each line is a coherent thought or phrase and slips easily into the following line without confusion. The form is fairly traditional, with its s/l/s/l/l/ sound and appearance on the page ... and that works well for me. I also like the human element combined with nature.

The change of direction when we arrive at the mid-line comma works well. We discover we're not going to hear 'everything'; instead, we have to listen. I doubt that readers will expect what's to come in line 5, but what a delightful surprise with which to conclude this engaging tanka.

I suspect some people would say punctuation is not needed. Technically, maybe it isn't. However, I find the comma and ellipsis slow me down, give me time to be still, become calm, and to open my ears and really listen.

—Susan Constable

Haiku Section

freezing fog

the intermittent embers

of rose hips

Senryu Section

global warming

the extinction event

of snowmen

Haibun Section

Youth Section

The following haiga was also included in this issue:

 

Cattails, April 2020

the patina
of an old moon . . .
steeple bell


memory fog
where does it go
when it's gone


daily vice
I'd give up migraines
if I could


underneath
a stand of bracken
we discover
the blue sky inside
each tiny bell


our school bus
waxing and waning
over frosted hills . . .
we huddle together
in a herd of laughter

Cattails, October 2019

family photos . . .
Mom sweeps back
my mop of hair


crown shyness
the space we make
for each other


I measure
my horse at his withers . . .
these hands
know how to gentle
everything but you


a charm
of rufous hummingbirds
sipping nectar
wings blur the edges
between darkness and light


Tanka Editor's Choice

What stands out again is this poet's unusual use of language in her tanka. Instead of writing 'a flock' of rufous hummingbirds, Debbie penned 'a charm'. And charming they are, for who has not been spellbound by these birds suspended mid-air, wings a-blur as they sink their beaks into the center of blooms, their reddish-brown countenance glowing. While the simplest of language works best in tanka and affords more dreaming room, so too creative use of words that affords multiple understanding, a poetice device Debbie has mastered in many a tanka.

This tanka is a 'charm' in itself.

—Kathy Kituai

Cattails, April 2019

a white blaze
on the colt's forehead
forked lightning


burst pipes
I've always wanted
an indoor pool


roadblock
we steer away from
the big issues


a startlement
of waterfowl rises
from the marsh . . .
we gather cattail fluff
as tinder for our fire


a cascade
of silver spills down
the mountain . . .
your fingers tremble
as you unpin my hair

Cattails, October 2018

smoky wind . . .
snow geese where
the grain was


dementia . . .
all the memories
we wish she had


this prairie
cradles the bones
of my sister . . .
I sing her a song
about magpies and wind


the dark sky
above this mountain
a haven
for orphaned stars,
lost among neon lights

Cattails, April 2018

dust plumes . . .
wild mustangs spar
with the moon


broken mirror . . .
still not as pretty
as my sister


rusty hinge
her first greeting
after surgery


it was
as if she were
a butterfly
the way words flew
from her open hands


the cyclical
nature of our lives
this year
we are rabbits
next year, lynx

Cattails, October 2017

brush strokes
of wings against
blank skies . . .
how can I write
these words to you


pancake ice
on the lake's surface . . .
stepping stones
to some other life,
on some other shore


guitar lick
the dog teaches me
a new one


polliwogs . . .
the ripple effect
of music

Cattails, April 2017

river stones
polished to a soft sheen . . .
in sharing
the weight of our worries
we each become light


my dreams
wander in and out
of yours . . .
rabbit warrens
in the bluebell woods


origami class
the beautiful folds
of our elders


old documents
the things we forgot
we knew


the curve
of an avocet's bill . . .
sickle moon

Editor's Choice


Editor's Comments:

Avocets are from the genus Recurvirostra, meaning 'bill curved backwards'. These striking waders can be distinguished easily by their bills. The poet juxtaposes the beautiful image of the upward curve of an avocet's bill with the sickle moon. A skilful use of two concrete images to create an unusual association in the mind of the reader.

—Geethanjali Rajan