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Gloria Heffernan
Sometimes a poem just happens. Thatís how this haiku came about. I was busy doing my least favorite chore after breakfast one late December morning. When I looked up from the sudsy water, I saw the naked maple tree in our backyard adorned with blue jays against the backdrop of a snow-covered field. How could I not put it into a poem? The haiku is the perfect form for the swift and indelible impression created by a sudden flash of beauty. It needs no embellishment. It wants only to be seen in the mindís eye again and again.

Winter's white blindfold
blankets fields of dormant grass.
Blue jays bloom in trees.

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