(1) SMILING, SHE NAMED HIM HAIKU.

                    On her rice paper
              The artist stroked a curved line. 
                 "It's a bird," she thought,

                  Observing the s-shape  
                 Forming beak and wing.
                

                 A dot for an eye, 
             A few bold strokes for his tail,
                And the bird was done. 
          
               What should she call him? 
             Smiling, she named him Haiku. 
                 It seemed to suit him. 

                 But soon she noticed
             How sad and quiet he seemed,
              Trapped on her sketch pad. 
                 She lifted her brush
             And painted an open door.
             

                                   "Farewell, little bird." 
             Haiku, joyous, stretched his wings 
                And flew through the door. 

        
                 Silently, he sped
            Toward his waiting native land,

                     The world of Nature.        

   


     

                 Here he found his voice,
             Singing his thoughts and feelings

                      in lyrical tones. 

                  The artist heard him,
             For he came to her in dreams
               and guided her paintbrush.



              

The Nectar Detector


Finding sweet nectar,

He dances his good tidings

In a bee's Morse Code.