Rehn Kovacic


 Watching birds

on the computer screen,

       the cat types her own haiku.


Issa's Untidy Hut


My poetry—

   each word

 stolen from the moon.


Issa's Untidy Hut



the downpour—

       a mockingbird.


Issa's Untidy Hut


So quiet —

    the space between notes

          wind chimes.


Four and Twenty


The butterfly

      so tattered —

  a few flowers yet to enjoy.


Four and Twenty


Imperfect leaf

    pressed between pages

  once held memories.


Garden poems

  whirl through my mind—

       the sound of bees.


In the girl’s tears,

  the moon

      shines bright.



framed by evening clouds—

          deep indigo.


Mountainous landscape—

my mind

   filled with poetry.


The sun reveals

      too much—

  I long for the moon.


The scent of rain

   that never comes—

 cloudy skies.


Autumn leaves

     fall once again.

 When did I grow old?


The cat bats

at the moon—

 sure she can reach it.


 The sunset—

no need to clutter

     with adjectives.