Some of these beach haiku were written by random trips to beach.
Most of these are part of a series based on afternoons spent at the beach on Hilton Head Island with my pad out ( a real paper note pad), hoping for words with my iPhone camera handy to add illustration to my thoughts.
I wanted to see if I would be ‘inspired’ by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.
Some turned out okay.
Some were too forced.
Some were just bad.
Some did involve some or all of those feelings.
As far as it goes, I guess I was inspired by by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.
Please aware that most of these haiku were NOT WRITTEN on the date in the title – for an explanation of this please see The Series link in the navigation table.
all afternoon the sea was a muddle of birds black, spiky, long-necked
Cormorants by Mary Oliver as published in the collection, Thirst by Mary Oliver (Boston: Beacon Press, 2002).
All afternoon the sea was a muddle of birds black and spiky, long-necked, slippery.
Down they went into the waters for the poor blunt-headed silver they live on, for a little while.
God, how did it ever come to you to invent Time?
I dream at night of the birds, of the beautiful, dark seas they push through.
Did you know that shore birds have a shared home, the beach and because they have different length beaks, they are able to take part is something called resource partitioning which lets many different species live and eat happily on the exact same strip of shoreline.
God, when you invented time, where did you find the time to come up resource partitioning as well?
a shaft of sunlight moment in and out of time you are the music
For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment, the moment in and out of time, The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight, The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all, but you are the music While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses, Hints followed by guesses; and the rest
From The Dry Salvages V. in Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot (Harcourt, Brace: New York, 1943).
Sunrise, September 18, 2026 – Broad Creek, Hilton Head Island, SC – Looking towards the barrier that makes Hilton Head a barrier island to the Atlantic Ocean.
This is my view on the way to work, kind of.
When I take a photo, I am looking straight ahead, keeping my eye on the road.
I hold my phone, balanced in my right hand with a finger on the shutter, and I click away without looking, hoping to catch something good and hoping another car in the other direction isn’t in the way.
I don’t see what I could have seen until I get to work and look at the pictures on my phone.
Today, I was pleased to see this magic image where I lined up on the nose with the rising sun.
I was going south east at 60 miles an hour.
The earth was revolving to the east at 1000 miles an hour.
The sun rises at this latitude at about 900 miles an hour.
I had left for work after passing up one last cup of coffee.
And it all lined up at the same place on the Cross Island Parkway bridge on Hilton Head Island on September 18, 2026 at 722 a.m.
For most of us, there is only the unattended moment.
The moment in and out of time.
The distraction fit.
Lost in a shaft of sunlight.
Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all.
But you are the music while the music lasts.
These are only hints and guesses.
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest.
The rest that I didn’t know until I got to work and looked at my phone.
Would the music have lasted, been different, had I put the phone down and stole at glimpse at the sun as I crossed the bridge?
Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all.
head down to the sea goin’ shout out at ocean Hey … Hey! it’s me
Apologies to the often imitated but never duplicated, Ann Arbor’s own, Bob Seeger, but feeling like a number, I cruised out of the city and went down to the sea and shouted at the ocean, hey … HEY … it’s me!
And boy, did I get a lot of looks.
I have to ask, do folks still refer to phone company as Ma Bell?
What the beach looks like with a 20 knot breeze along with high tide right at the peak of the afternoon.
Here are the lyrics to Mr. Seeger’s song, Feel Like a Number.
I take my card and I stand in line To make a buck I work overtime Dear sir letters keep coming in the mail I work my back till it’s racked with pain The boss can’t even recall my name I show up late and I’m docked It never fails
I feel like just another Spoke in a great big wheel Like a tiny blade of grass In a great big field
To workers I’m just another drone To ma bell I’m just another phone I’m just another statistic on a sheet To teachers I’m just another child To IRS I’m just another file I’m just another consensus on the street
Gonna cruise out of this city Head down to the sea Goin’ shout out at the ocean Hey it’s me
And I feel like a number Feel like a number Feel like a stranger
A stranger in this land I feel like a number I’m not a number I’m not a number
Dammit I’m a man I said I’m a man
Need more?
Watch the song as you listen to one more time.
As I said, often imitated but never duplicated, Ann Arbor’s own, Bob Seeger.
all deeds of men are dreams at first, in the end, deeds dissolve into dreams
Based on the Epilogue to the book, Old-New Land by Theodor Herzl (Bloch Publishing: New York, 1902), where Mr. Herzl writes:
When, however, you come among friendly folk, give them greetings from your father.
Tell them that he believes Dreams also are a fulfillment of the days of our sojourn on Earth.
Dreams are not so different from Deeds as some may think.
All the Deeds of men are only Dreams at first.
And in the end, their Deeds dissolve into Dreams.
Rain squall clearing the beach over Hilton Head Island, 9/13/2026.
In the book, Old New Land, Mr. Herzl dreams of a Jewish Homeland and dreams of a new nation in Palestine.
According to Wikipedia, when the book came out, “The book was immediately translated into Hebrew by Nahum Sokolow, who gave it the poetic title “Tel Aviv”, using tel (‘ancient mound’) for ‘old’ and aviv (‘spring’) for ‘new’.”
The Hebrew title of the book was chosen by Jewish residents as the name for the newly purchased twelve acres of sand dunes, north of Jaffa, established in 1909 under a company name “Ahuzat Bayit (lit. “homestead”) society”, and with the financial assistance of the Jewish National Fund. The town was originally named Ahuzat Bayit. On 21 May 1910, the name Tel Aviv was adopted. Eventually, Tel Aviv would become known as “the first [modern] Hebrew city”
It is explained that the epligogue I am quoting is addressed to the book itself.
Mr. Herzl writes, “Now, dear Book, after three years we must part.“
When he writes, When, however, you come among friendly folk, give them greetings from your father, he is referring to himself as the father of the book.
It is Mr. Herzl who believes Dreams also are a fulfillment of the days of our sojourn on Earth.
And, as the epigram opens the book …
“If you will it, it is no dream.”
Deep stuff for a Tuesday morning.
Dreams.
Deeds.
Old for New.
Maybe we are watching the dreams of those founding father fellers that they turned into deeds are once more, becoming just a dream.
