Downunder autumn haiku
By Hilary Ash
Deciding fresh figs
Would be my favourite fruit
Took fifty autumns.
Wheezing street sweeper
Sucks and chokes over leafmounds,
Leaves in the gutter.
Yellow pages, quick -
Pick the perfect counsellor
Who will mend my ways.
Now you see it, now
You don’t; poet wrestles with
Comma polishing.