Riding with the Haiku Poet

On a muddy road, a haiku poet 
driving a car that looks like an old stone pond,
offered  me a ride.

Haiku today, he bemoaned, 
is written by those who have never seen a frog jump,
or heard the cricket’s dusky lament.

I, then, recalled, one last lingering fall day,
the window, left ajar, just enough for a cricket
to fly in and land in the middle of my classroom,

and the teenage boy, who amidst the curious yelps of students,
stood up and squashed it with the 5-7-5
beat of his heel.

But this poem does not pretend 
to be about dead crickets, vicious boys,
or open windows on autumn days,

it’s just about a ride with a haiku poet
in a car that looks like 
an old stone pond. ❏


Laurie Kuntz is a widely published poet. Her 4th poetry collection is The Moon Over My Mother’s House published by Finishing Line Press. Recently retired she lives in an endless summer state of mind.



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