Zen Haiku • Fall 2022
Dr. Randy Brooks

a lone time

by
Maddy Cummins

I wanted this collection to be a reection of the best haiku I wrote over the fall semester of 2022, and all in chronological order. That way, as a reader, one can see the progression of how I cultivated my form throughout time. I believe that this series of haiku achieves just that. When I rst attempted this dierent writing form, I was kind of lost. Not in the sense of having no idea what to write, but more so in the sense that I tend to use a great deal of adjectives and descriptors, sometimes even metaphors. Therefore, breaking down a moment to its most simple form was dicult.

As a creative writer, a poet, and overall avid lover of words, not being able to use my favorite descriptives was a challenge. An amazing challenge, yet a dicult one nonetheless. I think that focusing on a specic moment in time, freezing an often trivialized ourish of the breeze or landing spot of a buttery created a habitual act of mindfulness for me. I took my haiku writing time, and incorporated it into another course, creating a blog and also implementing it into a contemplative practice.

One of the most rewarding parts of this experience was watching the world through a more nuanced and thoughtful lens. Taking the time to notice the small things, the actions of people, their interactions with others, and note them down. This course has taught me to appreciate the process of the occurring moment, rather than living in the past or even future.

I hope you can take the time to enjoy my haiku, and perhaps it will encourage you to take part in this writing form as well.

clink-clink-clinking
beaded bracelets
scrape the table

the breeze,
sweet and cool
tastes of dying leaves

gracefully landing
on lilacs
the sun kisses its wings

clumsy hands
twist tangled hair
“Hand me the ribbon”

she takes compliments
like the breeze—
graceful

his embrace
safe yet cold
sawdust on my tongue

raindrops paint
a window pane
steam from a mug

leather boots
now home
to dafodils

warm ritardando
he opens the door grinning,
bow in hand

dampened sidewalk
sprinkled with leaves
buzz of the streetlight

a lone tune
echoes through
the cold hall

small footsteps running
hands joined in a circle
heads bowed