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Haiku Dialogue: What’s at Hand Week 9

 

 

Welcome to Haiku Dialogue — What’s at Hand Week 9 with Guest Editor Craig Kittner.

Let’s talk about haiku! Through June 26 we will see what 21 common objects can inspire.

Our new theme is a threadbare blanket.

Immerse yourself in the theme, then submit one original, unpublished haiku via our Contact Form. Please submit by Saturday at 6:00 pm eastern time. Include your name as you would like it to appear and your place of residence.

By submitting you agree that your work may appear in the column — neither acknowledgment nor acceptance emails will be sent.

I will select haiku that make good use of the theme and that are likely to generate lively discussions. I’ll add some thoughts below each week’s selections to get the conversation started.

This week’s theme was a lost piece of clothing.

strong wind-
one more hat
for scarecrow

Aljoša Vuković
Šibenik, Croatia

 

evening twilight
a shred of pajama
on barbed wire

Anthony Rabang

 

her pink kerchief
in the hay stack –
divorce decree

arvinder kaur
Chandigarh,India

 

high wind
the clothes line bares
all

Barbara Tate

 

lone glove
why am I still
holding on?

Edward Cody Huddleston

 

missed jacket –
the secrets I share
with the scarecrow

Eva Limbach

 

unfaithful
my beloved hat gone
with the wind

Franjo Ordanić
Oroslavje, Croatia

 

lost mittens
childhood
rainbow

Guliz Mutlu
Turkey

 

moving day —
his embroidered handkerchief
in my suitcase

Hifsa Ashraf
Pakistan

 

crowded bus
an overhanging branch
unwinds a turban

Ingrid Baluchi
Ohrid, Macedonia

 

deer mice
traces of my straw hat
in a winter nest

Janice Munro
Canada

 

missing glove
something about her
I cannot grasp

John Hawkhead

 

no longer believing…
the fairy disappears
from the box of costumes

Laurie Greer
Washington DC

 

in the veggie patch
what the dog fancied…
a winter glove

Madhuri Pillai

 

all that was left in his jacket

Margaret Walker

 

spring cleaning . . .
buried in candy wrappers
skinny jeans

Marilyn Ashbaugh
Tucson, Arizona

 

missing scarf
the scarecrow’s
knowing grin

Martha Magenta
UK

 

the dog’s digging hole
a grave
for lost socks

Michele L. Harvey

 

Lost cardigan
the evening
we didn’t say goodbye

Nadejda Kostadinova

 

date night
my little black dress
not in the closet

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio

 

lost my winter socks
my child’s marbles
hanging neatly

Neni Rusliana
Indonesia

 

I get off the train…
my pair of gloves
keeps on traveling

Olivier Schopfer
Geneva, Switzerland

 

my long lost shawl
the scent of hay
in its folds

Pat Davis
Pembroke, NH USA

 

red panties
in the robin’s nest—
backwoods trail

Pris Campbell

 

her fathers clothes
a seamstress conjures up
a squirrel

Robert Kingston

 

in the lost and found
a Mother Goose rhyme book
and three mismatched mittens

Sari Grandstaff

 

lost and found-
a homeless man ties
a half-Windsor

Steve Tabb
Boise, Idaho

 

empty suitcase
strange hotel’s endless night
no pj’s

Trilla Pando
Houston, USA

 

one-way street
the wind takes my scarf
backwards

Vandana Parashar

 

The first piece of clothing I ever chose for myself was a pair of purple jeans bought at a yard sale in 1978. Those pants live in my memory as the coolest clothes I ever owned. I can’t remember exactly when I outgrew them, but even now, when I want to feel my uniqueness, I wear something purple.

A piece of clothing can easily become part of one’s identity, and its loss can expose unexpected vulnerabilities.

Anthony Rabang has given us a fine picture of vulnerability. The softness of pajamas contrasted with the unforgiving harshness of barbed wire. In a well-ordered world the two would have nothing to do with each other.

Nadejda Kostadinova’s “Lost cardigan” is tinged with melancholia. Why didn’t they say goodbye and how is that connected to the cardigan’s loss? We’re not given much information, but enough to imagine something of significance occurred that evening. Something haunting.

Speaking of haunting, the sadness of Laurie Greer’s haiku has stuck with me. The loss of beliefs may be necessary for maturation, but who doesn’t miss how magical the world looked through innocent eyes?

Trilla Pando’s “empty suitcase” haunts in a different way. It’s dreamlike atmosphere is endlessly intriguing.

Barbara Tate deserves mention for a bit of humor and the sheer volume of her use of the theme. An entire clothes line of lost clothing. Wow!

What are your thoughts on how our poets handled the transitory nature of clothing? We await your comments below.

 

Guest Editor Craig Kittner lives near the banks of the Cape Fear River in Wilmington, North Carolina. He has worked as a gallery director in Washington, DC, and a program director for the Kentucky Arts Council. He took second prize in the North Carolina Poetry Society Bloodroot Haiku Award for 2019.

 

Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada and an Associate Member of the League of Canadian Poets. She co-edited an anthology of crime-themed haiku called Body of Evidence: a collection of killer ’ku.

Craig Kittner

After several years of moves, Craig Kittner has put down roots in the sandy soil of Eastern North Carolina. There the sunshine is clear. The climate gives rise to riotous growths of wildflowers. Birds abound, and the sky is alive with ocean breezes. Craig is content to walk the forests and beaches, gathering imagery for his poems. His work has been published in Frogpond, Chrysanthemum, Failed Haiku, bottle rockets, and the Autumn Moon Haiku Journal. In 2018, he had two poems selected as judges' favorites in the 5th Annual Golden Haiku Competition, and one poem selected for the Winston Salem Writers' Poetry in Plain Sight project. His first chapbook, Time's Sweet Savor, was published in 2016 by New Books on Front Street, an imprint of Old Books on Front Street in downtown Wilmington.

This Post Has 54 Comments

  1. Great topic Craig…..nice selection of poems

    love this one it paints an action video….i see the turban wearer running to catch a bus and not seeing the lower tree branch that successfully catches the turban….another ironic twist.

    crowded bus
    an overhanging branch
    unwinds a turban

    Ingrid Baluchi

    as does the motion here:

    Oliver Schopfer’s

    I get off the train . . .
    my pair of gloves
    keep on traveling

    *

    Is this a teenager’s room, i can picture this? the ironic twist of candy and skinny….perhaps the jean were not that much missed if they no longer fit?

    spring cleaning . . .
    buried in candy wrappers
    skinny jeans

    Marilyn Ashbaugh
    Tucson, Arizona

    *

    lost and found-
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor
    .
    Steve Tabb

    one mans loss another ones glee…the glee on his face….putting something to good use

    *

    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    .
    Janice Munro

    lots of woven feelings here….but that it is recognizable….gives such life and connection to these ” ‘deer’ mice”

    *
    evening twilight
    a shred of pajama
    on barbed wire
    .
    Anthony Rabang

    in addition to the history that reminds us of those tormenting times….already mentioned here….
    the shred of clothing piece….makes me feel more about the person…than the material.

  2. I wish I had the knowledge and time to comment on each poem – I enjoyed every one.

    These three, however, jumped out at me:

    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?

    Edward Cody Huddleston

    lost and found-
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor

    Steve Tabb
    Boise, Idaho

    Both of these hit a spot in my heart – to be followed by a laugh with

    Pris Campbell’s

    red panties
    in the robin’s nest—
    backwoods trail

    Thank you to all for enriching my week!

  3. deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    .
    Janice Munro
    .
    Nice images, nice words, nice story.
    .
    The image order is the one weakness. A winter nest would provide more intrigue in the first two lines, with the surprise of the hat or a reveal of the mice in the last line. Still a nice ku.

  4. In addition to my earlier commentaries, I’d love to know the backstory of
    .
    TRILLA’S ’empty suitcase’ with ‘no pj’s’ around. Did what was missing render the hotel ‘strange’ and the night ‘endless?’
    .
    ROBERT’S ‘father’s’ apparently tattered ‘clothes’
    .
    the ‘red panties’ that ended up in PRIS’S ‘robin’s nest,’ the tell-tale ‘scent of hay’ in PAT’S ‘lost shawl’ and NANCY’S ‘not in the closet’ ‘little black dress.’ It was fun giving my imagination free rein guessing;
    .
    or the endstory to OLIVIER’S ‘traveling gloves.’ Did gloves and traveler ever meet up again?
    .
    ‘the evening / NADEJDA’S ‘we’ ‘didn’t say goodbye’ and what happened to the ‘cardigan’ in the process
    .
    MARGARET’S one-line ‘all that was left in his jacket;’ it’s intriguing to ponder.
    .
    the someone ‘no longer believing’ in ‘the fairy’ one once pretended to be in LAURIE’S kui; was this a step out of childhood?
    .
    or (again) the endstory to INGRID’S bus rider catching his ‘turban’ on an overhanging branch; did he lose it entirely?
    .
    how HIFSA was related to the one whose ‘embroidered handkerchief’ showed up in the ‘suitcase’ on ‘moving day’
    .
    EVA’S ‘missed jacket;’I wonder what ‘secrets’ the ‘I’ in her ku did ‘share/ with the scarecrow’
    .
    the possible emotions ARVINDER’S ku-personality feels with the ‘pink kerchief’ and the ‘divorce decree’ in such close proximity.

    1. Hi Christina, Lost shawl – tossed off on a day warmer than expected and forgotten about – found in the barn behind bales of hay.
      Pat

    2. Yes, he probably did lose his turban because no bus would stop for him to retrieve it – “time means money”. No doubt it would be snatched up by someone else and put to similar use. It’s a common occurrence with roof-top passengers in the Indian subcontinent, and a source of mirth.

    3. Hi Christina, its about a woman i have known who wanted to take away each and everything after a divorce, perhaps even the memory of younger and romantic days !

      arvinder

    4. When I saw Trilla’s empty suitcase, I immediately recalled my husband traveling to do a funeral. When he was to fly back the same day, there was inclement weather and he and the other passengers were re-routed and put up in a hotel until the next day. He had only packed his robe for the service (as he was to return) so no pj’s for him.

      PS. Glad you found something to like in my haiku, too.

  5. Read and re-read EDWARD CODY HUDDLESTON’S and JOHN HAWKHEAD’S haiku.
    Though different, they are (for me) eerily similar. In each, a single glove. In each, similar verbs: ‘holding on,’ ‘grasp[ing].’ In each, the ‘I’ of the speaker is left wondering. And there, just there, the power and mystery of each one’s ku breaks through to me.
    .
    I wonder, will EWARD’S question ever be resolved?
    Will JOHN ever come to know the “something about her” that eludes him?
    .
    A single glove symbolizes ‘one’ where by implication there should be/could be ‘two.’ Both poets leave us with a relationship whose future needs still to be worked out.
    .
    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?
    .
    Edward Cody Huddleston
    .
    missing glove
    something about her
    I cannot grasp
    .
    John Hawkhead

  6. lost and found-
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor

    Steve Tabb
    Boise, Idaho

    I especially liked this one, reminding how fortune can reverse. I have worked with a lot of Wounded Warriors at the VA and also at a homeless shelter. While passing out blankets and food I have heard men say, “I used to be a doctor.” “I used to be a lawyer.” “I had a wife and kids.” “I owned a business.” I remember meeting an old man in England 40 years ago when I was a kid traveling around the world. He said he had been wounded in the retreat at Dunkirk and later in the invasion at Normandy. He was begging in the park. I gave him a Pound, a days food to me at the time. There but for grace…

    1. lost and found-
      a homeless man ties
      a half-Windsor.
      .
      Steve Tabb
      .
      Hadn’t thought I could be more moved by STEVE’S haiku until I read your commentary, CHARLES. Could almost hear the voices of those you quoted.
      And the old man to whom a young you gave a Pound 40 years ago? Hope his spirit even now begs blessing on lost and found lives, young and old.
      Thanks so much for sharing this. And to Steve for his powerful poem.

  7. So many that resonated. Enjoyed each and every one.

    Steve Tab
    .
    lost & found
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor
    .
    This one unleashes a myriad of possibilities

    …………………………………..
    Janice Munro
    .
    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    .
    so typical of the little deer mice–must smile at this one

    …………………………………………………….
    Nancy Brady
    .
    date night
    my little black dress
    not in the closet

    ……………………………………………………
    Hifsa Ashraf
    .
    moving day
    his embroidered handkerchief
    in my suitcase

    These two by Nancy and Hifsa– Oh my, the stories they generate.

  8. Reading so many beautiful poems on a theme that one kind of struggled with at one time is an amazing experience. One marvels at the possibilities it can open and frankly this time after reading I could think of so many items of clothing that have been lost along the way and were so dear. I particularly remember a shirt that i loved as a teenager. Later on it was my go to shirt to check body measurements ! Ha ! such a typically girlish thing to do. I still remember the print and the colour and yes Craig,this theme will stay with me,for my ongoing writing perhaps ! The poems that particularly resonated were ‘evening twilight’ by Anthony Rabang, ‘high wind’ by Barbara Tate,’lone glove’ by Cody ‘ missed jacket’ by Eva Limbach,’unfaithful’ with all its conotations. “lost mittens’,so poignant ! ‘moving day’ very evocative. I was taken in by the mystery of the ‘missing glove’,’veggie patch ‘ made me smile, the melancholy of ‘all that was left’. The ‘knowing grin’ of the scarecrow,so real,so amusing, ‘lost socks’ so familiar for those who love pets. With ‘lost cardigan’ I was lost in thoughts as well. Also loved the prolonged travel of the gloves by Olivier and of course Vandana’s scarf that goes backwards,happens so many times Vandana ! Its fascinating how poetry can be found in everyday things ! loved the collection !

  9. And here is the story of my glove

    magpie’s nest
    spring wind blows
    my glove

    so many days I search for my glove until the wind blew it out of the nest of a magpie.

    **********
    I was very pleased to read this interesting and entertaining selection

    Thank you!

  10. Thank you, Craig Kittner, it was really enjoyable reading this haiku selection and your story of your favorite purple jeans, reminded me of my own story with a pair for red jeans unfortunately not so happy as I couldn’t have them at that time but still left in my mind as an example that one should not miss its chance when it’s there.
    I was very intrigued to see all the different stories related to the subject, and I particularly connected to the following as they resonate mostly to my sense of how clothes can actually represent a person or a deep memory and the one of Janice Munro of the mice is so cute that it reminds me of a cartoon but surely real life can evoke all kind of feelings:-)

    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?
    Edward Cody Huddleston

    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    Janice Munro
    Canada

    missing glove
    something about her
    I cannot grasp
    John Hawkhead

    Thanks again for mentioning my haiku and regards to all!

  11. Really enjoying these randomly sparked poems and the dialogue around them. I’m always amazed at what a seemingly plain prompt can unsurface in the minds of writers from around the world. Roll on next week an the threadbare blanket (or should that be roll out?).

  12. What an amazing collection… some of the ones that got me piqued:

    @ ALJOSA
    strong wind-
    one more hat
    for scarecrow

    Aljoša

    what a collection of hats the scarecrow must be having… this is a great piece, in that it not only makes me smile but also ushers in the environment the speaker is in, a vast expanse of crop, maybe mid-fruition stage, for the scarecrow is there, or maybe after harvest, when the scarecrow stands there, with nothing better to do than care for his collection of hats

    @ BARBARA

    high wind
    the clothes line bares
    all

    Barbara Tate

    that is a super write, alludes to dirty linen being washed…I think in the last “what’s on hand” Alan said something about not overdoing stuff in a haiku, leaving a little unsaid, and it is fun to weave those unsaid elements into the poem, your fragment with the -all – in there is the unsaid being said just enough to make me want to read and guess and read and guess and you know how that goes 🙂

    @INGRID:

    crowded bus
    an overhanging branch
    unwinds a turban

    Ingrid Baluchi
    Ohrid, Macedonia

    Oh, that is a fun read, I bet that happens often too…I live in India, and I have often seen people climb onto the rooftop of buses and their hats, scarves, etc being hauled up by naughty trees and impish breeze. Thank you for sharing this Ingrid

    @JANICE

    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest

    Janice Munro
    Canada

    there is the destruction and there is the construction, there is the mix of seasons, a straw hat is not for the cold season, so there is spring or summer and there is the mention of winter nest.
    A well-crafted and deep poem Janice, thank you for sharing… there is a lot to learn in the way the poem is constructed

    @MARGARET

    all that was left in his jacket

    Margaret Walker

    this is so cryptic and really hits in the gut. A poignant write …

    @OLIVIER

    I get off the train…
    my pair of gloves
    keeps on traveling

    Olivier Schopfer
    Geneva, Switzerland

    yes, they are embarked on their own adventure….

    @STEVE

    lost and found-
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor

    Steve Tabb
    Boise, Idaho

    there is hope in there, that teh homeless man hasn’t lost his flair to dress up…

    1. I wasn’t certain if readers would connect overcrowding/passing trees and passengers on the roofs of public transport, now kindly endorsed by you, thank you, Pratima. It was an occasion once observed in Pakistan where turbans are common, but loose, untidy things – not the immaculately wound headgear perfected by Sikhs. Glad you enjoyed the scene…but sorry for the man who lost his piece of clothing.

      1. hello Steve, Pratima has many meanings but I am named Pratima Annapurna, the very reflection of my paternal grandmother- Annapurna, …

    2. Pratima –

      Thank you for your comment – “this is so cryptic and really hits in the gut. A poignant write” – about my “all that was left in his jacket”.

      I appreciate all who take the time to comment!

  13. strong wind-
    one more hat
    for scarecrow

    Aljoša Vuković
    Šibenik, Croatia

    evening twilight
    a shred of pajama
    on barbed wire

    Anthony Rabang

    high wind
    the clothes line bares
    all

    Barbara Tate

    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?

    Edward Cody Huddleston

    missing glove
    something about her
    I cannot grasp

    John Hawkhead

    missed jacket –
    the secrets I share
    with the scarecrow

    Eva Limbach

    So many great haiku, so many journeys. Thank you all.
    I particularly liked these.

    1. Sorry, I don’t know what went wrong.
      Spacings were included.
      Happy to redo. Unable to delete.
      Warmly Rob

    2. Robert, I loved your fun ditty, and like Alan said it, there are not that many squirrels around in haiku…

  14. Thank you for including mine, Craig, among these haiku this week. I enjoyed both the poignant and the whimsical ones. Arvinder Kaur’s piqued my interest for its use of color. As did Nancy Brady’s and Pris Cambell’s use of color. There are stories here.

  15. Gloves . . . who hasn’t lost a pair, or worse, just one? The dangling mittens threaded through a toddler’s coat’s armholes – mother’s exasperated solution. The problem is that you can’t easily match up again with another pair, and if the one you lost was one you were particularly fond of? . . . That’s what I read in Edward Cody Huddleston’s:
    .
    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?
    .
    Use of personification in one or two – or at least I like to think: Maybe Oliver Schopfer’s gloves have a globe-trotting mind of their own? :
    .
    I get off the train . . .
    my pair of gloves
    keep on traveling
    .
    and Franjo Ordanić’s:
    .
    unfaithful
    my beloved hat
    gone with the wind
    .
    My favourite this week, though, was Janice Munro’s:
    .
    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    .
    Should she be cross, surprised, or just pleased to have been part of their home-making process? Dear deer mice.
    .
    I do so agree with you Craig that certain individual clothing can mean much, much more than just something to wear. After many years of use, I could not throw out my mother’s hand-made stripey jumper knitted with odd bits of wool. It became a feature of my cat’s bedding, admired again.
    .
    Thank you for your perceptive comments, and for including one of my poems.

    1. Thank you Ingrid for your kind mention. The mice who occupy our garage are cute/dear but they also chew wires and nestle in filters. You caught the mixed feelings.

  16. I enjoyed reading within this theme of lost clothing perhaps because of the intimate nature of clothes…the way they share our lives…some disappear and others we tuck away for unarticulated reasons. Many thanks to the poets and to Craig. The purple pants story is fully relatable, casting my mind back to two of my high school favourites: a forest green top with laces and moccasins worn to shreds on city sidewalks.
    .
    Today I find myself particularly moved by the memories held in a lost or abandoned glove or sweater:

    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?
    .
    Edward Cody Huddleston
    .
    .
    missing glove
    something about her
    I cannot grasp
    .
    John Hawkhead
    .
    .
    Lost cardigan
    the evening
    we didn’t say goodbye
    .
    Nadejda Kostadinova

  17. Thanks so much, Craig for selecting my haiku among such beautiful collection and Alan Summers for the pat on the back. 🙏

  18. Losing ourselves in different ways.
    .
    .
    The theme is never more powerfully approached than by Anthony Rabang:
    .
    .

    evening twilight
    a shred of pajama
    on barbed wire
    .
    Anthony Rabang
    .
    .

    This instantly reminded me of the book The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (a 2006 Holocaust novel by Irish novelist John Boyne) “Unlike the months of planning Boyne devoted to his other books, he said that he wrote the entire first draft of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas in two and a half days, barely sleeping until he got to the end.” WIKIPEDIA

    We continue to allow holocausts on people of various races, culture, religion, and any other difference we can find.
    .
    The use of twilight, that separation of what goes on in daylight and what is allowed to happen under cover of darkness enhances the other two line.
    .
    .
    For poignancy, this one effected me, as perhaps some of us hold onto a single item of clothing from someone else. Or perhaps it’s just that we have a bad habit of keeping half of something that we can’t use. I like the enjambment which creates “why am I still” which as a standalone line is intriguing, and mysterious.
    .
    .
     
    lone glove
    why am I still
    holding on?
    .
    .Edward Cody Huddleston
     .
    .

     
    moving day —
    his embroidered handkerchief
    in my suitcase
    .
    Hifsa Ashraf
    Pakistan
    .
    .
    Ah, a day of moving, different apartment, house, home, district, town, city, country, growing up or growing away. I don’t see embroidered handkerchiefs anymore, but they do have a power, don’t they?
    .
    .
     
     
    deer mice
    traces of my straw hat
    in a winter nest
    .
    Janice Munro
    Canada
    .
    .
    Also known as New World mice, and not as large as deer, even Santa’s tiny helpers. 🙂 A lovely verse, just a joy to read!

    .
    .
     

    no longer believing…
    the fairy disappears
    from the box of costumes
    .
    Laurie Greer
    Washington DC
    .
    No longer believing in fairies! 🙂 A poignant transition of age when we think we are being grown up, but have so much to learn about that, often for many decades later. Powerful poem!
    .
    .
     
     
    all that was left in his jacket
    .
    Margaret Walker
    .
    .
    Wow! It shouldn’t work as a poem, as a one line haiku, but it’s packed with words, in the white text areas. A great prompt for any kind of creative writing, or storytelling too!
    .
    .
     
     
    her fathers clothes
    a seamstress conjures up
    a squirrel
    .
    Robert Kingston
    .
    .
    It’s not easy to write about squirrels in haiku without the haiku being reduced to ‘twee’ but this is magically wonderful! As someone with several fathers myself, I wasn’t sure if this was fathers plural or singular, but that imagery makes this all the more mythical, with a woman who can conjure up animals, perhaps, to cheer up a little girl?
    .
    .
     
     
    lost and found-
    a homeless man ties
    a half-Windsor
    .
    Steve Tabb
    Boise, Idaho
    .
    .
    I love this, it has hope as well sadness, and I’m reminded of The Fisher King and similar stories.
    .

     .
     
    one-way street
    the wind takes my scarf
    backwards
    .
    Vandana Parashar
    .
    .
    I love the play on a one way only street and a scarf that defies human law. A divine haiku! 🙂

    1. Thank you for your comments…always interesting and your note about mine. I’m impressed by your knowledge of mice. Thank goodness they are not as large as deer but they certainly are spry, climbing and jumping in ways one wouldn’t imagine.

    2. Thank you Alan. I was afraid there might be a bit too much “white space”. Your comments are so appreciated. I enjoy reading your thoughts on everyone’s work.

  19. So many lost clothes, so many underlying stories as to how they became lost to tease out.

    Loved the homage to the three little kittens, takes me back to childhood.

    The homeless man looking sharp, red panties in the nest…lots here to contemplate and smile about.

    Thanks, Craig, for choosing one of my haiku. Like you and your purple pants, I still miss that dress and haven’t found the perfect replacement despite the many LBD in my closet over the years.

    Now, back to checking out the lost and found.

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