Liz Adamshick 4/22/21 Liz Adamshick 4/22/21

Reevaluating

Time for a name change.
“The (so far) Daily Haiku”?
We’ll see how it goes.

Liz Adamshick 4/21/21 Liz Adamshick 4/21/21

One Step Backward

Birdsong this morning,
“Double-u Tee Eff, April?!”
Get your boots back out.

Liz Adamshick 4/21/21 Liz Adamshick 4/21/21

One Step Forward

Heavy hearts exhale,
A long and tiring journey
Still more work to do…

Liz Adamshick 4/20/21 Liz Adamshick 4/20/21

No Rush

Lingering spring green,
The season taking its time
I’m ok with that.

Liz Adamshick 4/19/21 Liz Adamshick 4/19/21

Good Advice

Racing off to work
A yellow sun rides shotgun
Telling me, “slow down.”

Liz Adamshick 4/18/21 Liz Adamshick 4/18/21

Humility

Tending to the birds
I turned my back on the east
And the sun still rose.

Liz Adamshick 4/17/21 Liz Adamshick 4/17/21

Trust

Laundry on my hip,
I took a chance on the sun
Some clouds, but no rain.

Liz Adamshick 4/16/21 Liz Adamshick 4/16/21

Youth

Awakened at night
I hear tumbling down the stairs
Kittens, playing. Sigh…

Liz Adamshick 4/15/21 Liz Adamshick 4/15/21

Steady

Patrick’s hand in mine,
Reassuring, always there
Marry me again.

Liz Adamshick 4/14/21 Liz Adamshick 4/14/21

Date Night

A thumbnail of moon
Winking through the trees’ fingers
Flirting with the sky

Liz Adamshick 4/13/21 Liz Adamshick 4/13/21

Worth

I’m not important
And yet, Someone disagrees
Puts stars within reach.

Liz Adamshick 4/12/21 Liz Adamshick 4/12/21

Look Up

Far above my head
The sycamore’s elbows are
Holding up the sky

Liz Adamshick 4/11/21 Liz Adamshick 4/11/21

Colors

I know what grey is
And blue, yellow, fluffy white.
Daily, the sky gives.

Liz Adamshick 4/10/21 Liz Adamshick 4/10/21

Wondering

Velvet sky above
How many dreams have you caught?
Go on, count. I’ll wait.

Liz Adamshick 4/9/21 Liz Adamshick 4/9/21

All Aboard the Five-Seven-Five

I know I talk too much.

If you’re on the “watch Liz find her way to the main point” ride, settle in, bring a sandwich and stay hydrated. It’s gonna be a while.

I do battle with words every day. They offer themselves nonstop at break-neck speeds and leave me panting. Like the crazy cat lady who lives down the road, I let them in and feed them and they stay. We’re all mostly happy with this current arrangement but there are days when a little head silence would be nice.

Enter the humble and restrained haiku. The first one I ever encountered was written by seventeenth century poet Mizuta Masahide and mimed for me by theologian Matthew Fox my senior year in college:

Since my house burned down
I now have a better view
of the rising moon

How could someone say so much with so little, and within the confines of a 5-7-5 syllabic construct? At the time I was enchanted but saw no future in it. I took my theology/philosophy major and talked my way through careers in campus ministry and volunteer resources management. Heck, one faith community even let me preach (funny, wordy as I am, I never broke the seven-minute homily. Who says faith can’t be efficient as well as inspiring?).

It’s only recently that I’ve dipped my toes back into the pool of the Succinct, with brevity as my swim goggles. It’s hard but strangely soothing at the same time. As a daily practice, I think it could even be therapeutic. So, I’m giving it another go, from the vantage point of someone with a few decades in the rear view mirror and the desire to say more with less.

Deer walking the field.
They watch me walking too, but
I’m not as graceful.

Come back tomorrow, or a couple days from now and we’ll see what lands here.

Arigato.