Last year, I spent more time in my April entries talking about haiku — its form and technicalities (like in this post).
And you are welcome to peruse all of those if you’d like (or other folks’ more erudite discussions than mine.)

But for me, for now, I’m just enjoying the process of noticing, writing and letting these little tiny poems go…

Haiku 9
4/9/2010

pigtails in the wind
so many eager hands raised —
how should I answer?

I went on the road late last week for a very inspiring book gig. 

As one of three authors/illustrators (including the ever-awesome Don Tate and Kelly Bennett) at the10th Annual Corpus Christi Children’s Book Festival, I read to approximately 1,000 four- and five-year-olds. 

Seriously. That is not a typo.

They move these groups of kids through with their wiggles and their matching t-shirts and an amazing amount of calm and grace. All in all, it was pretty swell, and I made it home happy and just a little hoarse (and with a speeding ticket, but we won’t go into that here.)

Needless to say, my time at the computer has been limited, but my haiku have been accumulating regardless.
And without further ado, here they are…

Haiku 8
4/8/2010

Pigeon, grackle, squirrel — 
who brought you sunflower seeds?
ready offering

This one’s in honor of my Small One,
sweet, wild and upside down…

Haiku 7
4/7/2010

Yesterday marked another day I was able to write a haiku but unable to post it.
I’ll rectify that now, with my very seasonal little piece.

I am more appreciative of spring this year than I often am.

Partly because our winter was (and I can see you northerners rolling your eyes and guffawing here) particularly wet, cold and gray.

And also because this spring itself is exceptionally beautiful — with cool mornings and evenings, and more bluebonnets than I’ve ever seen.

But also, at the most fundamental level, because we’re sort of in thick over here in terms of human drama and struggle. And we are positively hungry for spring (with all its complementary natural and pagan metaphors and literalisms about fresh starts and rebirth and growth and possibility.)

You may be, too.
There’s certainly plenty to go around…

Haiku 6
4/6/2010

One of the things I love about living where we live is that we can bike to school all year round.
Sometimes it’s still a little dark, sometimes it’s still a little chilly, but we load up with backpacks and lunchbags and binders and pedal our way toward the morning bell.
The girls are inevitably awake and in possession of improved moods by the time we pull up to the bike rack in front of school.

This morning I watched all the neighborhood squirrels navigate the power lines as the sun came up.
Meanwhile, Small One recited her Shakespeare lines and Tall One told us about an idea she has for a story.
(What I wouldn’t do for all her ideas…)

A few minutes later, they were both ensconsed in their classrooms and I was taking an easy ride home…

Haiku Five
4/5/2010

Squirrels can’t stop to talk
Their telephone lines waver
and they hurry on

I didn’t log in yesterday.
It was Easter, it was Sunday and it was my birthday.
There were eggs to hunt and languid cups of coffee to enjoy.

But, I did write my haiku.
I mean, really, it almost feels like cheating when the weather is this fine. 
How could one not come up with 17 syllables out of all this goodness?

So, here goes. And today’s haiku will follow in a separate post…

Haiku 4

wind stirs the bamboo leaves
the sound of raindrops falling — 
will it fool the frogs?

We spent a lot of time outdoors today —
it’s that time of year here.
We potted some pretty spring plants (with a bias toward pink zinnias),
dyed Easter eggs in a friend’s backyard, 
and walked the dog more than once. 
(Which is unnecessary since she’s fifteen, but who could resist?)

Most of what I notice right now is the smell of grape hyacinth in the air, the almost-perfect non-tempature and the birds, nesting. But today there was also a little something in the air…

Haikus Three
4/3/2010

Try to catch your breath,
the air yellowed with pollen
and heavy with spring.

Trees reproducing
with sticky vigor and lust;
blatant and straight-up.

We are lucky to live in a neighborhood where, when the weather’s right,
everyone spills out of their houses into the street.
Dogs being taken on supposed walks lie down in each other’s yards while their folks talk.
Kids push their scooters and their chalk right down the middle of the pavement,
and there are a couple of basketball hoops in frequent use.

This afternoon, my Small One and I were out there in the midst of it all when something flew overhead —
so close we all ducked a little bit. It is spring here, the season of bright surprises.

Haiku 2
April 2, 2010

hawk floats overhead —
mistaken for a vulture
it reveals itself

Hi.
I’m Liz.
You may remember me — I used to blog here.

Life has gotten pretty crazy at our house of late. My husband’s been recently diagnosed with a serious illness, and he’s had to succumb to endless tests and a really gnarly surgery — all just to prepare him for treatment.

As his right hand gal in the midst of all this, I’ve had to let all the nonessentials slip away

That said, today is April 1st, the kick-off of National Poetry Month.
Last year I celebrated by writing (and posting) at least one haiku every day —
a practice that ended up being a highlight of my year.
This year I am committing to do the same. 
It feels a little illogical, seeing as how I can’t seem to get to an ordinary blog post to save my life, but I really want to do it.

Writing a haiku everyday for a month teaches me a lot about poetry.
It teaches me a lot about my writing practice.
It teaches me a lot about birds and leaves and wind and sky.
And it teaches me a lot about noticing each sublime moment each day has to offer. 
Which is just about the opposite of nonessential, if you ask me.

So, without further ado, welcome, I’ve missed you and happy poetry month…

long train whistling
as I cut this morning’s fruit — 
to warn or beckon?

 I just got the sweetest little packet of thank you cards from one of the schools I visited recently.
We’d worked and played with metaphors and then, to our great delight, it started snowing outside!
(Afterwhich all bets were off. This is Austin, Texas, after all.)

Here are a few of my favorites (and imagine, if you will, these words bedecked with hearts, stars and other magic markered embellishments):

Dear Mrs. Liz Garton,
I saw you like my poem even the one that said I am goofy like a moose with clothing on my horns and you laugh.
Even the bat one too. We both had fun.
From Breanna

Dear Liz Garton Scanlon,
Thank you for coming to ar school even if it was snowing. 
I am bilingual so Muchos Gracias!!!
Sincerely Jesua

Thank you Liz Garton Scanlon
Your the best like a Best Friend
Your sweet like a lollipop
Your pretty like a princess
Sincearly Gruselda

I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been compared to a princess before, being all curly-haired and blue-jeaned. 
Lucky me!

And speaking of schools, look at this lovely article on Scholastic’s web site offering up curriculum links for picture books like All the World!