Haiku you.


A human feeling

stands naked before critics

without tact for dress.

As Dorothy waved,

she bid the thoughtful Scarecrow

a special farewell.

Laced with fine design

glazed and fired and glazed again,

our vessel stands tall.

The treasures of Tut

rested patiently, waiting,

as man groped in sand.

My haiku is 32 years old.