Kluane Mun Haiku

KLUANE LAKE, YUKON 

June 17, 1997

Reading Basho--

look at the banana,

but don't peel it.

                    Like my son,
                    I read three poems
                    and start writing--
                    sorry, Basho.

Fireweed

skirts the highway

to Destruction Bay.

Fox crosses highway,

trots through fireweed--

Farewell, stranger.

All night
in the camper,
sound of wind and lake waves.

Lighting a cigarette

from a campfire twig,

loving life that much.

Chewing my lip,
I gaze at mountains
in the lake.

                        Below snow streaked mountains,
                        two loons on Kluane Lake--
                        sound of wings.

                                                   Okay, you nosy gnats,
                                                   while Dingo swims,
                                                   I dream.

Ground squirrels
sit at their holes,
lecture my dogs.

Quite by mistake,

a gnat

pressed between pages.

Awakening to sound of rain,
we rolled,
pulled covers over our heads.

Neither robin, squirrel

nor insect--

only the rain speaks today.

Even the gnats are inside

staying dry--

I wonder where?

Closing the book,

this rain,

will it ever end?

Standing in the rain,
looking at my breath--
June in the Yukon.

Steam rises from urine;

I apologize

to fern, moss and prickley rose.

Two robins speak
from spruce top:
No more rain today.

CHILKOOT LAKE, HAINES, ALASKA
(a few days later)

Bear approaches,

I raise my arms, "Whoa!"

It turns away.

Campfire smoke
through forest sun rays--
a fish jumps.

The great eagle

carries off

a tiny duckling.

sound of waterfalls
a fish jumps
sound of waterfalls

The cub tips my canoe

with a loud "Splash!"

life jackets float away.

Air horn in one pocket,
pepper spray in the other,
I read about renga by the campfire...
Did you hear that?