Rain thrums on the roof,

Thunder and lightning dance through—

Four a.m. party.

Four in the morning—

Thunder and lightning dance through,

Rain thrums on the roof.

Mist leaves the mountains—

Hawks circle in bluing sky—

Rising, rising up.

Morning rises up—

Hawks circle in the bluing sky,

Mist leaves the mountains.

Morning in Hot Springs—

Gray mist ghosts the mountainsides,

Hawks circle towards light.

A bronze quarter moon

west of the colored stage lights

sets while the band plays.

A bronze quarter moon

west of dazzling stage lights sets

while the band plays on.

The damp green forest

battles the slur of traffic

with bug and bird song.

August green with hint

of October yellow 'neath

Sunday morning gray

Stone house with moss roof—

evergreen sparkled with dew—

gray dissolves to blue.

I write these haiku—

And she tries to shit without

laxative of smoke.