Now and again I come across John Stevenson’s haiku
old slippers
Stevenson at Modern Haiku
the comfort
coming apart
but then, there’s this other small perfection of his
doe nestled
Stevenson’s Some of the Silence
into the shape
of the ditch
Not a hair out of place in this small awarenesses. Nothing extraneous and yet they reach wider than their concrete content to an unravelling, the unavoidable entropy, and to the rightness, the perfect complementary fit of adapting.