Haiku Society of America Haiku Award
in Memory of Harold G. Henderson
Judges' Commentary for 2025
Meredith Ackroyd & Kelly Sargent
~ First Place ~
dandelion chain
I weave myself
into the meadowJoshua St. Claire, New Freedom, PA
Some haiku are so well crafted that they feel all of a piece, and they hum with a lasting resonance. Deceptively simple at first glance, this is a poem that upends our expectations, expands with meaning, and stays with us long after we have read it.
The first line "dandelion chain" opens with a strong image and a kigo that evokes spring, sunshine, childlike wonder, and the flower crowns that are common to spring celebrations and weddings. A chain can also be thought of as a hard thing that imprisons and binds, and the first line of the poem is full of the hard sounds of consonants (d's and n's) and long vowels. The picking and weaving of dandelions can also be seen as a taking from nature, a disruption of the dandelion's life cycle and habitat. However, as the poem shifts into the second line and to the somewhat unexpected "I," we see that the author has woven this chain of dandelions not in an act of power over nature, but as a creative act to bind themselves closer to the meadow, to weave themselves into its fabric and its seasonal rhythms. There is a give and take of relationship in this action of weaving the dandelion chain: in harvesting the dandelions from the meadow, the author has also given themselves to it. As the poem's sounds gradually soften into the softer vowel sounds and m's of “myself / into the meadow,” we leave the poem with a deep sense of interconnectedness and the expansiveness of being a part of the natural world.
This is a powerful haiku about nature and identity and what it means to see oneself as a part of the ecological web instead of something separate from it. The poem has an incantatory, spell-like quality, and through its weaving we are also changed and reminded of the ways in which we are relational parts of the living, breathing ecosystems that we inhabit. We are all a part of this chain of relationships, bound to each other and to nature. When we engage creatively with nature, as in the writing of haiku, we have the power to weave ourselves closer to it. The final spell that this haiku casts is to remind us of this.
~ Second Place ~
breath prayer
moss breaking stone
into soilDan Schwerin, Sun Prairie, WI
This is a deeply resonant haiku, with lines that breathe with strong imagery and music. Breath is used in many spiritual traditions as a focus for prayer and meditation; while we don't know which tradition this poem references, it's easy to understand its opening image as a contemplative practice that is grounded in the breath. The shift from the first line to the imagery of the second and third lines is a major juxtaposition, moving from the human to the plant and mineral. Moss is one of the simplest plants, but it plays an important role in biological weathering and ecological succession. By growing into and expanding small cracks in rock or by chemically dissolving a rock's surface, moss can slowly break down stone into small particles that, along with organic matter, become soil that can nurture new growth. In a similar way, prayer grounded by the breath is a slow process of transformation. One breath at a time, one moment at a time, as small and as soft and as unnoticed as moss, mindfulness and prayer can be powerful enough to create positive change for the individual or for the world.
The music of this poem is also strong and resonant. "Breath prayer" sounds as quiet as the practice it describes, and the soft sounds of these words are almost more breath than sound. These soft sounds continue in lines two and three with the s sounds in "moss," "stone," and "soil," and this sonic repetition feels soothing, reassuring, and comforting, like a prayer or an empowering whisper in the ear. In the exact middle of the poem, the word “breaking” offers the sole, appropriately harsh sounds of the poem (the hard k), signifying the transformative action. Further enhancing the poem's feeling of the breath is the strong rhythm of the last four words of the poem: with three beats each, "breaking stone" and "into soil" finish this poem with an even rhythm that leaves the reader with the feeling of deep, even breathing.
As one-breath poems, haiku too are part of a tradition of breath and mindfulness, so this haiku can also be read as a self-reflective poem about the quiet power of haiku or a haiku practice. Grounded in the haiku moment and in close observation of the natural world, each haiku has the power to transform us and maybe, slowly, the world too.
~ Third Place ~
it's not a bug
it's a feature
first fireflyMatthew Markworth, Miamisburg, OH
This haiku stood out to us for its multiplicity of meanings, so deftly layered in the resonance between the first two lines and the third. "it's not a bug / it's a feature" is a well-known phrase that refers to the unique or unexpected features that can pop up in computer software, often by happy accident. Juxtaposing this phrase with "first firefly," a well-loved kigo, encourages the reader to think of fireflies as not just insects, but a valued part of our world and an essential part of nature and its seasonal rhythms. The alliterative quality of "feature / first firefly" adds musical emphasis to the poem's meaning, with the parade of f sounds not only serving to emphasize that fireflies are indeed a feature, but also adding a sense of musical expectation, not unlike the expectation we feel when waiting for the first firefly of summer.
As we found ourselves thinking about all of the possible meanings that result from this poem's strong juxtaposition, we found our own minds lighting up with associations like a field of fireflies! The poem brings up ideas about our relationship to insects (which we often think of as just bugs or nuisances, and not an essential part of ecosystems and food chains), the evolutionary uniqueness of fireflies as bugs with the trait of bioluminescence, and the phenological importance of the first firefly as a sign of summer.
This haiku's unique juxtaposition also encourages us to consider the relationship between nature and technology. So much of the language that we use to describe technology is language that comes from nature (e.g., "bug," "web," "cloud"), and technology is increasingly being used as a tool in amazing ways for deepening our understanding of nature. But technology, and the planetary warming that is exacerbated by it, can also endanger long-revered seasonal rhythms and the vast web of organisms, like fireflies, that have evolved in harmony with these cycles. In many places in North America, fireflies have been disappearing, and the joy of seeing the first firefly of summer is endangered or already lost. In using the lens of technology to think about fireflies as a unique and valued part of our seasonal rhythms, this poem gently and playfully encourages us to bring our thinking about technology and its usage back into relationship with the natural world.
~ Honorable Mention ~
skinny dipping
a single ripple
reaches PolarisEdward Cody Huddleston, Baxley, GA
This well-crafted haiku has strong imagery, music, and depth. The opening image is immediately evocative, not just of summer, but of a felt experience of water on skin. The second line gently shifts but continues this imagery of swimming and moves it beyond the swimmer and out into the water. The third line has this ever expanding sense of consciousness reaching all the way to the cosmos, to the North Star, a star that, along with the Big and Little Dippers, has long been used for navigational purposes. There is a beautiful, silken sense of touch and connection in this poem: the swimmer's skin immersed in water, the water being touched by and reflecting the light of the stars, and the ripple joining all of these things through the swimmer's movement through and connection with the world. The swimmer's single ripple, which calls to mind the ripple effect, speaks to how even the smallest of actions — or the smallest of poems—can have an effect on the world, especially when we act from a place of deep connection with and guidance by the larger, natural world.
The music of this haiku is also well integrated with its meaning. The p sounds in the last word of each line of the poem ("dipping," "ripple," and "Polaris") ripple through this poem like the concentric rings of waves created by the swimmer. The many s sounds throughout the poem evoke the quiet hush of skinny dipping at night, as well as a sort of sonic reaching out into the world, with the ending s sounds of "reaches" and "Polaris" hanging in the air as the breath slowly leaves the mouth. We end the poem with this felt sense of journeying, beyond ourselves, beyond the world, even to the stars.
~ Honorable Mention ~
her hand curled
around his around her —
summer duskP M F Johnson, Minneapolis MN
This is a beautiful haiku, with strong sensory imagery and music, that speaks to the interconnectedness of human relationships. The imagery in the first two lines of the poem is sensual, grounded in touch, as the couple's arms are twined around each other in closeness. The juxtaposition with "summer dusk" in the third line serves to deepen this feeling of connectedness, as lines of separation blur and dissolve in the growing darkness. One can picture this couple strolling home in the dusk hour, the deep green shadows of summer weaving through the limbs of trees and around the couple as they are woven around each other. They are joined to each other but also joined with the world. Grounded in the intimacy of touch and the sensuousness of dusk, the poem anticipates merging and union.
The music of this poem is also highly effective in evoking the sounds of summer dusk. The many r sounds that are strung throughout this poem lend it a soft chirring sound, like the chirring of summer insects. The alliteration of h sounds in the first two lines and the repeating s sounds in the last line also create a hushed softness throughout the poem that evokes sensuality and the quiet of dusk. The em dash in the second line also lends a nice visual to this poem — the extension of his arm wrapping around her as the dash wraps around to the next line. This is a beautiful, soft, evocative poem that you can not only picture but also feel as its music evokes the sounds of closeness and summer as dusk slowly envelops the world as it edges toward dark.
~ ~ ~
About the Judges
Meredith Ackroyd lives in Afton, Virginia, in a hollow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She is a graduate of the MFA program in Children's Literature at Hollins University, where she studied the writing of poetry for children, and she has published both poetry and scholarly writing in the children's literature field. An internationally published poet, her work has appeared widely in haiku journals and anthologies. She is a past winner of the Touchstone Award for Individual Poems and the Regional Award for the Golden Haiku Poetry Competition.
Kelly Sargent is a poet, artist, and editor living in the Green Mountain State of Vermont, USA. She currently serves as an assistant editor for #FemkuMag. Her poems have been honored in the Touchstone Awards long list, the Harold G. Henderson Haiku Contest, the H. Gene Murtha Senryu Contest, the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Competition, the Golden Haiku Poetry Contest, among others. She is the author of a haiku/senryu collection entitled Bookmarks (Red Moon Press, 2023), and her works appear regularly in international short form poetry journals and anthologies.