Haiku Society of America

Haiku Society of America Haiku Award
in Memory of Harold G. Henderson

Judges' Commentary for 2026

Deborah A. Bennett & John J. Han

~ First Place ~

last light
the snowy egret
briefly gold

Tom Bierovic, DeLand, FL

We kept coming back to this haiku because it is so original, imagistic, and resonant. No word is wasted, and the poem flows seamlessly from beginning to end. The opening line, “last light,” creates a cutting effect, establishing both the setting and the emotional atmosphere. The next two lines present a striking image of a snowy egret transformed by the fading sunlight, creating a memorable juxtaposition between the whiteness of the bird and the brief golden glow cast upon it. The contrast between snow white and gold is especially effective, revealing how a familiar scene can be made extraordinary through a momentary change in light.

On its surface, the poem captures a crystal-clear moment in nature—a snowy egret standing or moving quietly at dusk, illuminated by the day’s final rays. Yet the phrases “last light” and “briefly gold” extend the poem beyond description, evoking not only quiet wonder, introspection, and gentle melancholy, but also a sense of awe before the transience of both nature and human life. The bird itself remains unchanged, but the shifting light transforms our perception of it, suggesting that fleeting moments of beauty can reveal a deeper reality. For an instant, the ordinary seems touched by something beyond itself.

The final line is particularly effective in expressing one of haiku’s enduring themes: impermanence. The single word “briefly” reminds us that beauty is often most powerful because it cannot be prolonged. The transient golden light becomes a subtle metaphor for the passing of seasons, the stages of life, and the fragile nature of memory and time. The poem juxtaposes the changing quality of light with the fragility of life, inviting readers to reflect on how beauty, memory, and time cannot be held indefinitely.

The poet’s verbal restraint, precise sensory imagery, and subtle seasonal awareness exemplify the strengths of contemporary haiku. The language remains simple and unadorned, allowing the image itself to carry both emotional and philosophical weight. At one level, this is an exquisitely observed moment in the natural world; at another, it suggests the dignity and quiet radiance that can accompany life’s final moments. The poem leaves us with a lingering sense of wonder, encouraging us to pause and appreciate the extraordinary beauty contained within a single, fleeting instant.

 

~ Second Place ~

morning star—
hoarfrost
on the scarecrow’s sleeve

Billie Dee, Tacoma, WA

By portraying rural scenery at the dawn of a day, this haiku embodies haiku aesthetics in several ways. Although the poem sounds simple, it connects distant celestial and immediate earthly images to create a quiet moment of wonder in nature. Line 1 points to the sky, where a bright morning star shines immediately before daybreak. The phrase “morning star” establishes an atmospheric setting that lends the second-line anchor word, “hoarfrost,” an immediate sense of delicacy and absolute stillness in the freezing cold of dawn. Since hoarfrost forms on clear, calm nights when water vapor freezes onto surfaces already at or below freezing, readers can easily imagine brilliant crystalline layers of glistening white ice coating the grass, trees, and a solitary scarecrow standing in an open field.

The single word in line 2, “hoarfrost,” which suggests the seasonal setting of late autumn or winter, raises our curiosity and prepares us for the image that follows. Line 3 effectively complements line 2: the hoarfrost has settled on a scarecrow’s sleeve. Rather than describing the entire figure, the poet focuses on one small detail, making the image especially vivid. The scarecrow, a human-shaped decoy fashioned from old clothes and straw, is a familiar sight in farming communities, yet here it becomes much more than a practical object. As a human-shaped figure standing alone in the field, it invites readers to connect emotionally with the mystery and solitude of the scene. With the arrival of hoarfrost, this quintessential symbol of autumn seems to enter a season of isolation, introspection, and quiet transition

The scarecrow is not human, but its familiar shape deepens the poem’s emotional resonance. It suggests peaceful surrender and rest while reminding us that, like the hoarfrost that will disappear with the first touch of the sun, the present moment is fleeting. By ending each line with a noun, the poem exemplifies one hallmark of haiku: a poetic form grounded in concrete nouns. The poem’s restraint allows its imagery to evoke both the physical beauty of a frosty dawn and the impermanent nature of the changing seasons.

 

~ Third Place ~

pine-splintered sun
a fence lizard
finds a sliver

John Wojtowicz, Bridgeton, NJ

Like the second-place winner, this poem is marked by its effective use of noun words. The poem combines images of sunlight, pine, and the lizard’s movement to portray a natural scene that offers a moment of discovery for the speaker. In this gem of a poem, we witness a creature at autumn’s end, perhaps on the verge of winter, seeking a little warmth and light. In this haiku, the creature is a lizard, but it could symbolize anyone seeking comfort and solace in the cold. The poem opens with a striking image. While “splintered sun” is a familiar phrase, “pine-splintered sun” offers something more original by adding a natural detail that helps readers visualize the scene more clearly. The first line paints a picture of obscured light, light bent by obstacles, light that must be found.

In line 2, our eyes move from the sunlight to a lizard on a fence. By ending the line with a noun, not a verb, the poem creates curiosity about what will follow. The final line offers something pleasantly surprising: the lizard finds a small patch of sunlight. This poem exemplifies the haiku technique of keen observation of an ordinary scene, where both the speaker and readers share a moment of discovery in nature. The lizard’s behavior is portrayed in an empathetic way because we humans often do the same outdoors on a chilly day, searching for warmth. The connection made between the fence lizard’s being and a human being is subtle but profound.

The human-nature connection is an emotional and cognitive bond with the natural world. In our modern urbanized society, we build fences to put boundaries between ourselves and others, but our animal neighbors know no such boundaries. The fence lizard, like all of nature, is inextricably coupled with us. Even in cities with man-made barriers, walls, and fences, there are still direct and everyday interactions with wildlife, natural light, and the seasonal rhythms of nature.

The joy in this poem is in its effortless attention and soft fascination. Perhaps the poet paused in a local park or backyard to observe the rough bark of a pine tree, smell the soil, or notice sun-slivers stretching across an old wooden fence. In that quiet moment of attention, the lizard found a small patch of warmth. Gentle and engaging, this haiku captures a moment of deep silence and connection, reminding us that nature poetry is often not only about nature itself but also about our relationship with the natural world.

 

~ Honorable Mention ~

peewee league
the right fielder
blowing dandelions

Joshua Gage, Cleveland, OH

This haiku beautifully captures childhood innocence and tenderness through the description of a child’s baseball game. With concise imagery, this haiku takes us back into the heart of innocence. The three “ee” sounds in the first line, “peewee league,” feel like a child’s laughter, while the second line, “the right fielder,” also anchors this theme. We imagine a baseball field of small children in uniforms, engaged in the familiar activities of throwing, catching, hitting the ball, running the bases, and keeping score.

The act of blowing dandelions beautifully portrays the connection between the human world and nature. Line 3 often provides a twist or surprise in a haiku, and this is a wonderful example of that technique. The unexpected image of a young baseball player blowing dandelions transforms an ordinary sports scene into a quiet and memorable moment. Each line ends with a concrete noun, which strengthens the poem’s imagery, and line 1 and lines 2-3 constitute a wonderful juxtaposition.

The child in the far-right field becomes the center of the poem’s emotional resonance. The children are dressed in uniforms, a word that suggests sameness and conformity, yet this child stands apart from the others who are throwing, catching, hitting the ball, running the bases, and keeping score. The child has chosen to make wishes on dandelions instead, watching the flying seeds become vessels to carry those thoughts and wishes directly into the sky. This child has chosen to see the world, not as a place to simply play games, but as a place of wonder, imagination, and connection with the natural world.

There is no explanation or unnecessary commentary, and the poem’s use of restraint is remarkable. Through carefully selected images and a simple observation, the haiku allows readers to experience the scene and appreciate the gentle connection between childhood and the natural world. It reminds us that innocence often lies not in following expectations, but in seeing possibilities that others may overlook.

 

~ Honorable Mention ~

harbor wind—
a torn net
still holding light

Radosveta Giuleva, Sofia, Bulgaria

This poem beautifully connects nature and the human condition. The scene is easy to visualize: a wind blows through the harbor, and a damaged fishing net still reflects the remaining light. This poem paints an image of winter, a beautiful and melancholy vision of a golden winter dawn, golden maybe for only a moment, beside a blue-green ocean, white-capped and tossed by the harbor wind. The work is marked by its use of concrete sensory imagery—harbor wind, torn net, and light—and its effective use of a kireji and two-part juxtaposition.

“A torn net” is noticed, thrown aside and unprepared for the season but “still holding light.” The space left for the reader’s interpretation comes in the second line, “a torn net.” Here, the mind searches for all the metaphors this torn net could represent. Perhaps a person with a broken heart might find a connection to the image of a broken thing still able to hold brightness, illumination, and truth—still able to bring clarity out of chaos and darkness.

The poem sustains the reader’s attention until the very end, and Line 3 is pleasantly surprising because it changes how we view the torn net. In a way, this natural scene reflects human resilience and beauty amid imperfection. Instead of wallowing in sorrow, the net persists in holding the light. The poem’s restraint allows this image to speak without explanation, leaving readers with a lasting impression of quiet strength and hope.

Perhaps the “torn net” metaphor could also extend to the physical as well as the spiritual. Like a felled tree thought to be dead that still sprouts blossoms come spring, the net remains capable of holding light. Through carefully chosen images, this haiku transforms a simple harbor scene into a meditation on resilience, renewal, and the enduring presence of beauty even amid brokenness.

 

~ Honorable Mention ~

fifth day of rain . . .
a snail leaves
nothing behind

Patrick Quion, Chicago, IL

This poem draws from a lived experience to address the common haiku themes of transience and absence. It begins with a strong seasonal image that establishes the setting and mood. For us, the words “fifth day of rain...” are the anchor line, the phrase that ignites the imagination. It suggests a rainy season, perhaps summer, and creates an atmosphere of prolonged moisture and quiet transformation. The focus then narrows from the broad image of continuous rain to a familiar invertebrate that offers concrete, objective imagery.

The movement from the broad image of the fifth day of rain to the small presence of the snail effectively creates a quiet moment of observation. Most snails pass through gardens at night, while during the heat of the day they hide beneath thick leaves, leaving behind shiny mucus trails. Line 2 ends with a verb that invites readers to the final line, where we encounter a surprising turn: the snail leaves nothing behind. The mystery in the poem is why this snail “leaves nothing behind.” Perhaps the rain has washed away the snail’s trail, or perhaps a bird or frog has taken it for food. Maybe a gardener has gone out at dawn or dusk and removed the snail from vulnerable plants. Or perhaps the snail has retreated into its spiral shell for rest after the long rains.

Through a simple observation of nature, the poem captures the impact of a deluge on life on earth, encouraging readers to reflect on what remains and what disappears. The poet leaves space for contemplation by not explaining the absence, allowing readers to participate in the mystery and imagine possibilities. By inviting readers more deeply into this present moment, the poem transforms a small observation of a snail into a meditation on mystery, absence, and the fleeting traces left behind in the natural world.

~ ~ ~

About the Judges

Deborah A. Bennett began writing haiku during the pandemic after reading The Essential Haiku, edited by Robert Hass, which highlights the works of haiku masters Basho, Buson, and Issa. Her poems began to be published soon thereafter by such journals as Frogpond, The Heron's Nest, Modern Haiku, and Rattle Magazine. Her work has been long-listed for the Haiku Poets Touchstone Award for Individual Poems and translated into Japanese by Hidenori Hiruta of the Akita International Haiku Network, and into Urdu and Japanese in the Pakistan Japan Cultural Association’s Islamabad International Haiku Anthology for 2026.

John J. Han, PhD, is Professor of English and Creative Writing and Associate Dean of the School of Humanities and Theology at Missouri Baptist University. He is the author, editor, co-editor, or translator of 35 books, including Dawn Returns: The Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthology 2022. Han has also published nearly 3,000 poems in journals and anthologies, such as Cave Region Review, Failed Haiku, Frogpond, Kansas English, The Laurel Review, Mariposa, Modern Haiku, POMPA, Simply Haiku, Valley Voices, and Wales Haiku Journal. He serves as editor of the literary magazines Cantos and Fireflies’ Light.