The monsoon rains end. In the mud I see no prints left there by my friend. Now young rice shoots grow. I think of yesterday and where dead soldiers go. Back home corn is high.
Old men drink to young men who they've sent out to die.
Cold winter sunset, snow covers all. Now we are learning to forget. It has as its basis an image, an emotion, and a season, in statement or innuendo. Last of all, though it is complete in itself, the haiku must leave one to think of what must lie beyond the words, imagery, and emotive utterance of the poem. It is a poem that I wrote for a poetry class assignment at Seattle Central Community College in 1973.