my eyes on foliage-d sky withering at zenith

river-crossing a breeze wipes off my fate line

mom’s nestled cheek in a boy’s breast my lover’s roost

a fissured boulder at sunset could be me

night’s gritty breath a sky I can’t find

wind dislodges
small stones from the cliff
rattles scrub-oak leaves ---
the misty shape
around your absence

 
untrimmed candle wick ---
the rainy dusk brightens
in the flame's flicker
third day of the vigil
her hesitant breath

a young friend
demonstrates wool spinning
after six decades
I'm once again a spinster ---
the bitter taste of green tea

 
sipping gunpowder tea
he calls in the teashop "who
can spell 'lecherous'?"
when three women reply
his smiling bow to each

In the sea depths
fish that can't see
find each other

Fleeing across the plains
I feel the heat on my neck
of giant wings

scorching heat
under torn canopies
street vendors

remembering
my pink prom dress
cherry blossoms

team sport
the bullied child
gets picked last

electric guitar
the reverberation
of teenage dreams


tuning the guitar
the tension
between us

afternoon showers
steady rhythm of raindrops
- the scent of roses

Mused / Bellaonline.com (July 2018)

farmers market
at daybreak
- scent of fresh thyme

meeting
for the first time at
grandpa’s funeral

years later
people still call me
by my brother’s name

above the pond
a swirl of geese
she kisses me goodbye

broken ladder
remembering
grandma’s apple pie


just a street lamp
not the moon
this time


pandemic
police tape around
the playground


social distancing
the birds still singing
the way they have always sung

another false start--
the empty page
an endless sheet
of snow and ice
beneath a blinding sun

for all those
left behind …
falling leaves

alone
last dandelion stands watch
autumn’s gate

sometimes
the weight and weariness –
setting sun

thunder
an infant stirs
wide-eyed

heartache
upon heartache
these parched leaves
curl ever tighter
into themselves

spindly and bent
toward the sun...
I prop up
this lavender plant
with a heart-shaped stone

ragged breeze
a cocooned butterfly
jerks in the web

covid-19
the wind blows a mask
down an empty street

nessun dorma
my heart opens at high C
George Floyd is there
the sob of a wild turkey
the cry of a mourning dove

for my cat
who likes order
I make the bed --
at the SPCA
she knew I was her person

toy gun my son suspended

the itty bitty shitty committee between my ears won’t shut up

buttercup petals
cling to my bare feet—
a hint of what I am

deep green dreams
breathing inside me
the forest

out of the mist
a heron unfolds
the koan

Jianqing Zheng lives in Mississippi State, USA. His haiku's been published in a variety of publications. His book on Richard Wright’s haiku is forthcoming from the University Press of Mississippi in May 2011.

with heavy rain and rising wind the night train