Whispers from the Teahouse: Collected Haiku

By Steve K. Bertrand

This collection of a thousand haiku entitled Whispers from the Teahouse is an exploration of physical nature and human nature, past and present, as experiences unfold in our lives. The haikus are an attempt to make sense of these everyday experiences and preserve those moments that relate to the sea, sky, mountain, and forest in the Pacific Northwest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543445053

Steve K. Bertrand

For this pictorial history of Paine Field, Steve K. Bertrand has selected more than 200 images from the local community, historical societies, regional libraries, and state archives. He has traced the rich history of Paine Field from its earliest days to its present status as a bustling airport and commercial aviation center. These photographs provide a glimpse into the people and events that influenced this small community in the Pacific Northwest.

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Copyright © 2017 by Steve K. Bertrand

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5434-4506-0

      eBook         978-1-5434-4505-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/24/2017

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Books by Steve K. Bertrand

Poetry

The Silhouette of a Mallard’s Wing

Where the Fly has Flown

Winter Chill

Chants of the Makah

On the Edge of Slumber

Don Quixote Gives Up on Chivalry

The Little Book of Business Haiku

A Thousand Miles

Between the Tides

Tell Me, Moon

The Book of Fours

As The Crow Flies

To the Mountain’s Peak

Into the Cavern

Warriors & Peacemakers

Dead Reckoning

Nonfiction

Mukilteo

Paine Field

For Audrey

Preface

Tea House

Beneath a foot of freshly-fallen snow,

worn stone steps

that once lead from your door, love,

to the summer tea house.

"Would you like an adventure now,

or shall we have our tea first?"

Alice in Wonderland

Late into the night,

young lovers –

whispers from the teahouse…

Sundays

she sings in the choir –

exchanges sadness for song.

It’s a bit early

for song, robin,

dawn not yet broken.

January snow –

for some reason, my mind

on hummingbirds.

Painted

on cliff-side wall – primitive

traces of our past.

Even on the brightest days,

she manages

to find a cloud.

Mother Nature –

how many times must you strike

that old oak with lightning?

Through fog

& drizzly rain, crow dipping,

diving & drifting my way…

What becomes of misplaced dreams

of youth

that never come to fruition?

You are but

an arm’s length away, love,

but – an awfully long reach.

If not for clinging madrone,

island cliff

would simply be – cliff.

That beautiful rose

isn’t without

its thorns, child.

Winter –

murder of crows

silently flying toward dawn…

So, that’s what they mean

by Birdie – crow

landing on thirteenth green.

Tell me, squirrel,

must you chase birds

from my feeders?

All day long

picking strawberries, & now –

strawberries in my dreams!

Eating Chinese takeout –

morsel of rice

for scavenging crow.

Autumn –

leaf falls,

& falls, & falls…

That kiss, wife,

should I be reading anything

into it?

Snow on the banks,

ice on pond –

unblinking eyes of koi…

Eagle perched in Douglas fir snag

staring out to sea –

what do you see?

Approaching tide

& gull –

stoically making his stand.

Walking in the park –

I step over slugs

I’d salt in my garden.

Evening –

beacon from lighthouse

guides gulls home…

Sunset

on an August evening –

flickering of beach fires…

And when my ship

finally sails – I hope

I’m aboard!

Winter –

heavy rain, even birds

carry umbrellas!

Sunset –

rapid weet-weet of spotted sandpiper

amongst beach grass…

Such passion –

when a warrior encounters

a dragon!

September chill –

see how honeysuckle vine

trembles in wind…

Now they’ve stopped carding him

at the tavern –

he rarely pays them a