A Haiku Each Day

Sixty-two hundred and five Syllables a year.

Crabapples

The last crabapples
Knocking at the autumn sky
Answered by robins.

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5 Comments»

  Chuck wrote @

Summer Fruit Decays
Pungent Smell of Rotting Flesh
Permeates Fall Air

  Abigail Parker wrote @

Soft-skinned, spoiled fruit
Its rind finally tender
For the butterfly.

  Ronald Wohl wrote @

What a lucky butterfly…

  echostains wrote @

I lke the idea of the robins answering Abigail:-)

Knock knock
Who’s there?
Crabapples
(Robin) chomp chomp mmmm de-lic-ious!)

  Abigail Parker wrote @

LOL, I like that too!


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