Immigrant Haiku

hide and seek
between air raid sirens— 
phoenix flower blossoms


                                                                      bamboo wilderness
                                                                      the wind makes 
                                                                      a long deep sigh


beachside chapel
the clank of dinghies 
tugging at their moorings


                                                                      distant lightning— 
                                                                      crashing waves drown
                                                                      the boat engine’s sputter


refugee camp
child carries a teddy bear
by the throat


                                                                      escaping war
                                                                      the sand on another shore
                                                                      white as daisies


first light— 
sound of bees
beginning again


                                                                      reading the hunger report
                                                                      my breakfast bacon
                                                                      the shape of Vietnam


sunflower battalion 
grandchildren charge ahead
of their grandparents