Sunday Morning Haiku

Fingers intertwine,

hearts and feet set on the path.

Unconditional.

This morning I awoke thinking of haiku. Strange. When I was a school kid I hated the idea of writing poetry, especially haiku. Teachers seemed to be so taken with the simple poetry puzzles. Suddenly, these little poems seem a fitting way to capture my observations. Maybe I will write more.

Here's some information I found online about them:

So what should haiku accomplish? What should it provide the reader? According to the classic haiku poets of Japan, haiku should present the reader with an observation of a natural, commonplace event, in the simplest words, without verbal trickery. The effect of haiku is one of "sparseness". It's a momentary snatch from time's flow, crystallized and distilled. Nothing more. 

Of all the forms of poetry, haiku perhaps is the most demanding of the reader. It demands the reader's participation because haiku merely suggests something in the hopes that the reader will find "a glimpse of hitherto unrecognized depths in the self." Without a sensitive audience, haiku is nothing.