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  • Gary Hunter

haiku - Nov. 2, 2023

sunny fall morning

poet on a riverbank

one fish surfaces

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my life has become . . . well imagine a horse retired from the racetrack Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays bring the best feed with carrots added on Tuesdays and apples on Thursdays I get to walk every

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you know that season when the heater first kicks on the burning dust smell

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sleep like a baby wake up and you’re five get up and you’re seventy-five still in the gentle breath eyelids softly pressed are the unspoiled sounds of infancy and the small slide back to innocence

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