Five, seven, then five,
A universe in few words,
Silence holds the rest.
Ink scratches softly,
Syllables fall like soft rain,
Meaning blooms between.
A pause, then a line,
Seasons captured in three breaths,
Time shrinks, stretched in verse.
Haikus teach the eye
To linger on a small leaf,
A single dewdrop.
Quiet mind listens,
World whispers into syllables,
Brevity is king.
Moments become weight,
Light pressed into tiny cubes,
Haiku holds them still.
Evening wind murmurs,
The pen dances, short and sharp,
Echoes in the page.