December 2, 2020


Drifting Away


Driving home I notice pots of chrysanthemums on passing thresholds. I’m reminded how you would fill the porch with mums at the first hint of autumn. There is a kind of serene melancholy as autumn signals the waning of another year. You always decorated the porch based on the season, but I think autumn was your favorite. And now the porch remains the same regardless of the season.

        wandering thoughts
        as time grows shorter . . .
        tattered leaf


Dan Hardison


Contempary Haibun Online
Issue 16.3, 2020


September 25, 2020


Work Challenge















Haiku and image by Dan Hardison


Haigaonline - Work Challenge
Autumn 2020, Issue 21-2

September 4, 2020


Back Again


Cataract surgery is common and routine nowadays, but I had an additional problem. Both corneas had to be repaired through surgery also. So here I was being prepped for my third eye surgery in five months with the prospect of one more to go.

The prep nurse was going over the procedure when the anesthesiologist arrived to introduce herself, “Oh, I remember you. I put you to sleep for your first surgery. It looks like I’ll be doing it again.” Later it occurred to me that it had been five months and many other patients since our paths last crossed. So what was so memorable about the first surgery that she still remembered me?

        traveling
        a familiar road . . .
        forget-me-not


Dan Hardison


Drifting Sands
Issue 2 August 2020


June 26, 2020


Found Poetry

these things I love . . .
remembering with granny
when I was little


traveling light
sing with the wind . . .
why I wake early


a cup of sun
in some quiet place . . .
windows of thought

by Dan Hardison


DailyHaiga
June, 2020

May 30, 2020


The Gathering


The get together began with my grandparents as their children started families of their own. Everyone would gather at the home of one of the five brothers and sisters to share a meal and celebrate Christmas.

        slice of lemon
        and sweet tea over ice . . .
        southern accent

Families grew from generation to generation. Some moved away and others passed away. Word finally came that the family would no longer gather for Christmas. It is sad that this annual rite has ended, and that time and circumstance has separated us.

        familiar face
        yet the name slips
        away . . .


Dan Hardison


Frogpond, vol. 43:2 spring/summer 2020