Haiku 2017/159-167

2017/167 (16 June 2017)
wilting in the sun
cut flowers in the market
the bees buzz away

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2017/166 (15 June 2017)
the rock continues
washed by unending waters
pebbles roll away

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2017/165 (14 June 2017)
winds direct the clouds
winds pull leaves from off the trees
they swirl around me

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2017/164 (13 June 2017)
within this building
an unexpected fountain
drowning the city

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2017/163 (12 June 2017)
New England gravestones
knocked sideways by wind and rain
O the fresh green grass

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2017/162 (11 June 2017)
in my old station
a frail voice sings this warning:
que sera, sera

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2017/161 (10 June 2017)
these drooping blossoms
lovely in their long pale deaths
there is only now

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2017/160 (9 June 2017)
New things shock old eyes.
New things turn into old things.
This is what happens.

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2017/159 (8 June 2017)
climbing up the hills
serried ranks of boxy homes
as the trees retreat