Writing one haiku every day during February, the shortest month of the year, is the goal of the (inter-)national haiku writing month.

prismatic light
in a rain-soaked canopy
a sleepless sloth

in Heracleion
a colossus stands waiting
algae-covered stone

days of rain
seep into the underground
earthworms wriggle

parched throat
the July sun glistens
on her lips

heavy snowfall
the pallor of your voice

beyond sparrow song
the moon’s highlands and craters
shimmer like glass

Neptune blue
the color of the sky
the sun left behind

floating weightlessly
I hear ice bergs calving
clouds in the sky

the blue of her eyes
reflecting the blue of the ocean
between us

faint traces of a
shadow after sunless days
half-imagined warmth

Apollonian dawn
we discover dried tears
under our eyes

dark strands of ocean
curl around a thin snail shell
the link in the void

pale thunderhead
amidst endless azure
a sheer cliff

a single praline
I recognize the handwriting
Valentine’s day

Valentine’s day
the chocolates I received
eaten by her

inching closer
during this gelid dawn
Venus and moon

in the foggy copse
across the railroad tracks
a young cat frolics

red coat and red hood
she carries a blackbird’s song
behind closed lips

ancient forest
filaments of sunlight
illume the dust

sylvan cathedral
misty droplets of sunlight
trickle down

a kite
above wind-swept meadows
feathery red

hothouse orchid
scattering lustrous photons
gusty snowfall

milk-white shell
pale against her hand

a magpie
glides into the spring storm
halftone sky

delicate colors
petals infused with light
stained-glass crocus

on a northbound train
a sudden whiff of chlorine decays
into a memory of her

magnetic light
tints her bismuth eyes
summer festival

black mirror
in the evening sunshine
raven’s plumage

a blackbird
amid clusters of snowdrops
pecking for food