Orphans

Here's a few Baiku I wrote recently, just lying around on scraps of paper. All composed and recited while riding. Yeah, I get funny looks. I don't care.

Indian summer

Ends with whiskers rimed in frost

And forecast for rain.

Pumpkins carved last night

Front walk blanketed in leaves

Our invitation.

Pavement, gravel, yes

On my Sunflower yellow

Ocean Air Rambler.

Count the syllables

Ram-bler, Ram-bl-er, who knows

Either way I ride.