Twelve Haiku

among the morning blossoms—
the stone turtle
more stones

bright lights in the coin shop—
jewelry worn off
the queen’s neck

my place
for the oranges—
gravity’s place

the sound of elephants—
the zoo closes
on time

lower clouds coming in—
one old address label
under the new

Trier—
construction workers in dirt
the Romans left

the map folds out—
our trip connecting
dots

morning puddles now dry—
names left out of
his story

not much accumulation
in the old part of the cemetery—
first snow

city center
the streetcar fills up—
people who have a destination

holiday party—
the trash crushed into
one big bag

back door thoughts—
a steady rain with
its own sound