16

All Right, You Sparrows;
The sun has set and you can now
Stop your chattering!

17

In a misty rain
A butterfly is riding
The tail of a cow.

18

Sparrow’s excrement
Becomes quickly powdery
On sizzling pavements.

19

A summer barnyard:
Swishing tails of twenty cows
Twitching at the flies.

20

The dog’s violent sneeze
Fails to rouse a single fly
On his mangy back.

21

On winter mornings
The candle shows faint markings
Of the teeth of rats.

22

With a twitching nose
A dog reads a telegram
On a wet tree trunk.

23

On muddy puddles
Of the hoof-tramped farmyard,
Flashing glints of spring.

24

The webs of spiders
Sticking to my sweaty face
In the dusty woods.

25

A horse is pissing
In the snow-covered courtyard
In the morning sun.

26

From a red tile roof
A cat is licking beads of dew
In a humid dawn.

–Richard Wright

Interesting that Wright has no regard for linear accuracy of seasons in his haiku. Or maybe he does? I’m not a literary historian. Did it take all winter and spring to recover from the pissing horse haiku and finally lay down that cat in a humid dawn ditty?