Autumn, where have you gone? Beyond an absence of swallows, I struggle to find your usual signs. Where’s our rain-fed redemption? Our crunchy leaves? The weather just exceeded thirty degrees. And yet…
Who are we to complain? Like Icarus, this city flies close to the sun! Like his father, we watch on as each wing comes undone.
Reservoirs spiralling, cruise liners in command of the waves, air pollution beyond all reason.
To haiku I turn, for the sound of a season.
A mindful minute, to stand witness to this unfathomable age. Seeking words, images, phrases, that can’t be wiped out by Climate Change.
If you enjoyed this piece, you might like this one too. A humble guide on how to write, and refine, your own Haiku. Rule by rule, step by step —