2021 Selections

This contest is held with the overarching goal of bringing together entomology and poetry, as we believe it enriches the experience of entomological observation, and — this really goes without saying, but — arthropods are fantastic inspiration for writing haiku. This year more than 250 haiku were submitted from both near (our local Centre County residents) and far (from Yukon Territory in Canada, to Canberra in Australia)! Thanks to each and every one of you for participating, we delight in the thought that this brought some of you closer to both nature and art. A quick thanks to Brad Bennett for constructive thoughts on the contest announcement, and a big hearty thanks to both Anne Burgevin and Dr. Kadeem Gilbert for help organizing and blind-judging this year's contest. Now, on to the selections…

Category: Ages 12 & Under

Haiku Laureates

she spins her web of
geometrical patterns
it shines dewy sun

— Cara White

An image of the sun shining on a dewy spider web is familiar to everyone, but no matter how many times you see it it still feels magical. Even though the subject of this haiku is a frequently observed occurrence, this author makes it unique through descriptive language. Cara White's phrase "dewey sun" is unconventional but clearly alludes to sun reflecting in dew drops, and "geometrical patterns" resides comfortably in both the artistic and scientific worlds. This really makes the reader focus on the craft of web building and question whether the spider is an artist or architect (or both?). This haiku features the connection between object and the observer, and clearly shows an appreciation for both the spider and its web. "it shines dewy sun" is a special expression, one that brought us back for a second and third read of this compelling haiku.

under the treetops
a little baby beetle
and so many more!

— Sam Massung

This haiku illustrates an initial observation of someone looking up into the trees, seeing a small beetle (or perhaps a beetle larva?), and focusing on it. Then, suddenly, an expanding universe of beetles! The observer's surprise is evident, and it really highlights the element of discovery — which is part of the magic of going outside and observing the natural world. Another aspect of Sam Massung's haiku that was appreciated was the way the middle line felt while reading it aloud. One of our judge's described it as "…rolling off the tongue like a beetle moves along a twig or a branch"!

hidden in tall grass
finding a mate for summer
for us, soft music

— Ea Stilson

The natural history embedded in this haiku resonated with our entomologist judges. The subject remains "hidden in the tall grass" while attempting to find "a mate for summer", illustrates the double edged sword of courtship in the insects' world. Exposing yourself to the opposite sex means also exposing yourself to predators. This haiku is also sensory, focusing on the auditory aspect of this moment, rather than the visual. Ea Stilson points to the connection between the observation and our experience as humans — recognizing that it is a mating call — and although it is not for us, it is music to us nonetheless.

Category: Ages 12 & Under

Honorable Mention

darting in and out
lovers of the light yet come
out only at night

— Stella Loverich

The universal appeal of this haiku is derived from its description of the ordinary. Drawing attention to the contradiction of moths loving light but coming out only at night is crafty, and the word ‘darting' accurately describes the sharp movements we see when moths circle a street lamp (or dodge the incoming jaws of a bat). The behavior of some moths is strange—why aren't they out during the day if they are so captivated by the light? Although subtle, the repetition of the "t" sound—darTing, ouT, lighT, yeT, aT, nighT—made this haiku fun to read aloud.

sitting in sunlight
soaking up the rays of light
praying silently

— Maxwell Cooper

"Sitting", "soaking", "silently" … this haiku inveigles the reader into tranquility. We relate to the strong sense of warmth and peace that comes from sitting quietly and soaking up the sun. But is it a trap? The insect remains unnamed but could easily be interpreted as a praying mantis, a highly adapted predator that ambushes its prey. We feel the tension in this haiku, between serenity and, perhaps, an impending strike.

Category: Ages 13 – 17

Haiku Laureates

delicate wings sweep
rotted peach sunken, seeping
the butterfly drinks

— Clara Pollock

A rotting peach is an unusual object to feature in poetry, but it calls attention to an important interaction between insects and the environment. Many insects are saprophagous, seeking out nutrients in rotting biomass. Their inclination to feed on this material plays a vital role, an invaluable ecosystem service, in the decomposition of organic matter. Clara Pollock provides beautiful imagery through contrast of a lovely delicate butterfly to a seeping, rotting peach. The first line has motion to it, and captures the essence of a butterfly. In the second line, brimming over with sensory and tactile language, our attention is drawn to the decomposing peach. We almost smell its sickly sweet scent. Already the author has employed three of our senses, not an easy feat in a haiku. Seeing beauty in imperfection and in things that are transient is a worldview found in Japanese culture, art and writing. It is called wabi-sabi. This haiku is a wonderful representation of wabi-sabi because it invites us to experience beauty (delicate wings) in something transient (the rotting peach).

cicada breaks forth
cracks the crinkled brittle shell
life flows through wet wings

— Clara Pollock

2021 is the year of cicadas, at least in the northeastern USA, so it's not hard to appreciate cicada-inspired haiku, especially when the focus is on the phenomenon of ecdysis, the shedding of the old skin. Clara Pollock uses language that brings the texture to life, you can sense the roughness of the exoskeleton and the softness of the cicada's teneral state. The first two lines use hard sounds, like "breaks", "cracks", "crinkled", and "brittle", which contrasts beautifully with the smoothness of the last line "life flows through wet wings", as if the sound of the words themselves are mirroring the imagery of the cicada's state. There is also contrast between the two major life history stages of the nymphal stage and adult. The cicada emerges from spending its entire life underground with a wingless body and massive fossorial front legs that are well adapted to digging and burrowing in the soil. It then breaks forth from its old body with the new — adapted for flight, song, and reproduction. The wings are initially soft and furled, and only take shape once pumped with and inflated by haemolymph, "life". By juxtaposing these two stages, the author provides powerful imagery of a brief but integral moment in a cicada's life. This haiku is a wonderfully visceral representation of the theme of transformation.

Category: Ages 13 – 17

Honorable Mention

dragonfly glides low
diving towards the pond below
now the bass has lunch

— Clayton Kleinman

With this haiku, the reader is drawn into the image painted of the dragonfly flying low over the water and perhaps searching for its prey. You can almost see the reflection of it over the water. The last line catches the reader off guard — despite dragonflies being adept fliers and fierce predators, it so quickly became the prey. Clayton Kleinman has penned a dynamic, visual, and humorous haiku with a surprise ending.

the sun shines
a bumblebee hovers over purple crocuses
all is well

— Maeve Flanagan

The first sighting of bumble bees and crocuses in the spring is a very familiar and welcome experience that can bring a sense of warmth regardless of whether or not the sun is shining. Maeve Flanagan's words capture the quintessential moment of winter's end and spring's beginning. The author chose well when they decided to describe the bumble bee as hovering over the crocuses. Bumble bees are masters at hovering.

what do the worms think
when they rise to the surface
only to drown

— Maeve Flanagan

There are lots of ideas about why worms emerge from the ground when it rains. Maeve Flanagan ponders a question that many have asked, yet there still is not a definitive answer to. But instead of asking why, this haiku wonders about the behavior from the perspective of worms. What are they thinking? There is empathy and humor in this haiku, reminiscent of the works of Kobayashi Issa (1763 – 1828), a Japanese poet who often wrote about the less loved creatures in our world, and whose words — although hundreds of years old — still resonate today, as in this haiku of his: Mosquito at my ear-/ does he think/ I'm deaf?

Category: Ages 18 & Older

Haiku Laureates

rinsing chard
a ladybug
hidden in the folds

— Helen Ogden

We can find beauty in a mundane chore, such as washing vegetables. Chiyo-ni, one of the original masters of haiku, tells us this through her haiku. She often found profound meaning in everyday experiences due to her keen sense of oneness with nature. Chiyo-ni wrote many haiku about water, a symbol for clear perception. Her style has been described as ‘clear and pure.' Helen Ogden's haiku shares an affinity with Chiyo-ni's in that they also use clear language and clear perception, as well as the elements of water and an everyday chore, to convey appreciation for a moment. And herein lies the power of this haiku. It allows the reader to stand in the author's shoes, to feel the water running over their hands and the folds of the chard, and then, in a wonderful pivot, to discover something special hidden in the folds. (It should be noted that "hidden in the folds" is a fresh and unique expression about chard.) The rich mixture of texture and red and green color in swiss chard juxtaposed with the richly colored and smooth shell of a ladybug add another layer of sensory expression, in addition to the "sh-sh-sh" sound of water flowing over the chard and hands. The judges are also drawn to this haiku because it explores the important role insects play in farming and because it serves as a metaphor for the joy one can feel through discovering an insect. In a sense, this haiku says it is not difficult to increase our awareness about the insect world if we take time to notice its presence in our day-to-day lives. As expertly designed by the author, we finish the haiku just as we are invited to do in this insect haiku of Chiyo-ni's: a single spider's thread/ ties the duckweed/ to the shore.

sunny path
a tiger beetle
leads the way

— Clint Cosner

Like a sunny path, this haiku invites the reader to follow along. However, there is something that makes this path special. The reader discovers a unique trail leader — a shiny, iridescent and very speedy tiger beetle — in juxtaposition to a sunny path. The name of the beetle stirs our imagination. Looking deeper, the reader will learn that a tiger beetle has unique behavior. It has an ability to move extremely quickly. This comes in handy while hunting or avoiding danger. Entomologists hypothesize that after a period of super speedy movement (flight) the tiger beetle needs to reorient itself, and in doing so looks around at its environment with its keen eyesight. It even looks back from where it has come. The judges believe the tiger beetle may be leading us down a metaphorical path and looking back to make sure we are keeping up with it. Tiger beetles are bright and shiny (some of them) and when they move quickly they appear to play a fun catch-me-if-you-can game. If you have followed a tiger beetle you will recall how they stay just out of reach. Clint Cosner has written a flagship haiku for the Hexapod Haiku Contest by inviting us all down a sunny path with a tiger beetle as our guide. Lastly, we note the author's appreciation for euphony in "beetle leads" which are the key words in this haiku in our estimation.

outdoor wedding
an unexpected flurry
of cabbage whites

— Debbie Strange

Everyone knows wedding planning has its stresses. When a couple decides on an outdoor wedding they are taking a chance; an outdoor wedding has the added stress of weather. And yet for some couples it is worth taking the risk of having a rainy or windy wedding day, in order to tie the knot in the great outdoors. In Debbie Strange's haiku, the setting is clearly outlined in the first line. However, the particulars are carefully omitted. Is it in a park, a person's backyard, a formal garden, or a field? Cabbage whites, the insect in this haiku, are considered hexapod generalists. They have adapted to survive in many different habitats, so in this regard the author further allows the reader to imagine their own version of an outdoor wedding. Debbie Strange uses a technique created by Master Matsuo Basho called sokkyo, or spontaneity, when using the word "flurry." In the course of a wedding ceremony there is typically a great flurry of emotion when either of the nearlyweds enter the scene. However, the author pivots to the cabbage whites who are having their own flurry of activity. Perhaps a trailing dress or footsteps stirred up the butterflies, or the butterflies may have been attuning to something else. There is room to wonder. Debbie Strange adeptly taps into the excitement one feels at a wedding without any direct reference to emotion or the wedding party. Although scientists bristle at the idea of appreciating an invasive species such as the cabbage white butterfly, the author of this haiku finds a way to express beauty through the butterfly's presence in the world. And who wouldn't want a white butterfly at one's outdoor wedding? It is good luck, we hear, and it has even become a wedding business — called butterfly release.

Category: Ages 18 & Older

Honorable Mention

losing myself
in you…
mosquito

— Benedict Grant

The phrase "losing myself" can be interpreted through the physical or mental lens as in physically losing some of yourself while the mosquito feeds and then flies away, or from another perspective, losing yourself in deep contemplation over the insect. Because of the impact mosquitos have on the human world, they really are worthy of our thoughts and attention. Alternatively, this haiku could be describing the experience of someone who is so lost in someone else that it took a mosquito bite to break the trance. Is it possible that even when a mosquito is biting someone, their intense focus on someone or something else wins out? Benedict Grant uses the Japanese aesthetic karumi to create a delightfully light hearted haiku… all with the brevity of a mere 5 words!

swaying daisies
the way she says
"caterpillar"

— Brad Bennett

This haiku has a summer setting and yet at its core it is about the spring of our lives, the time when we acquire language. The author gently weaves themes of childhood, whimsy and transience into their haiku just as caterpillars weave in and out of their habitat. "swaying daisies" with its lovely long "a" sound reminds us that "a" is at the beginning of the English alphabet. It is often the first letter we learn. In keeping with childhood, when time moves more slowly, the author slows us down with the first line. That is, it takes a while to say "swaying daisies" (and to make a daisy chain). Moving our attention from the gentle breeze and the swaying of the flowers, the child leads us to something they have spotted–a caterpillar. A child led nature walk is a very enlightening experience; children often see things adults miss. This child is learning to say longer, more complicated words, and what better way to learn a word than by seeing the object the word belongs to. Perhaps the child is so excited to see the caterpillar, the vowels and consonants become muddied, or the child places emphasis on different syllables. Regardless, the adult in this haiku is taking delight in helping a child learn the language of the outdoor world. Brad Bennett's haiku reminds us of the importance of taking time to appreciate a child's learning process by noticing what they notice, and by listening to a child…moment by moment. In this way a child will come to value and understand the living world and ultimately to care about it.

summer breeze
as spiderlings hatch—
dandelion seeds

— Clint Cosner

After hatching, some spiderlings will crawl up to the highest point in the vicinity and release a single strand of silk. The silk catches the wind and allows the spider to fly away with the breeze (note: recent research has revealed that spiders use electrical fields to direct this flight!), a behavior called "ballooning". This haiku elegantly highlights that wind dispersal is a strategy used by various organisms, even those as taxonomically distant as spiders and dandelions. At the same time, there is an observable similarity in these otherwise dissimilar organisms, seen as a summer breeze casually sweeps them away to become airborne, moving with the wind. The author sought to further highlight the relationship between the insect and the plant world when they chose "spiderlings" and "seed" which share a near rhyme nature. 

beneath
the hammock
— ants

— Greg Schwartz

Greg Schwartz provides an incredibly brief and efficient haiku that leaves much up to the imagination, however, the punctuation implies an interruption. Was someone relaxing in a hammock and then jolted by the sight of ants? Was it fear? Disgust? Intrigue? Excitement?
Ants are not solitary. They live in communities. Where there is one ant, there are many more not far away. With this in mind, the author does well to contrast a space (the hammock) where one or two people spend time with the space where many ants live in community, namely the earth beneath the hammock. E.O. Wilson, the well known biologist, naturalist and writer, has studied ants extensively throughout his life. He was instrumental in discovering the fact that ants communicate through the transmission of chemical substances called pheromones. Ants… a small word for a small hexapod, and yet the life of an ant is anything but small. The author allows the reader to contemplate these very things with their one word last line "— ants" while relaxing in our hammocks.

dragonflies
in the heart posture
midsummer heat

— Brad Bennett

If you are not familiar, the mating posture of dragonflies often forms the shape of a heart (search images for "dragonfly mating"). This haiku insightfully highlights an exceptionally interesting insect behavior that is specific to Odonates. Brad Bennett then turns the reader's attention to the weather. Midsummer heat is the most intense heat of the summer, just as the attraction between mates is an intense phenomenon. And yet, the word "heart" references a different type of attraction. In humans, and other species as well, a heart connection can be important, thus Brad Bennett illustrates through imagery that attraction exists on a number of levels in this seven-word haiku. The judges appreciate the near rhyme of "heart" and "heat" and note the depth created by this echo effect.

full moon—
a spider spins
in the silver

— Bill Fay

"Moon viewing dates back to 8th century Japan, when on the 8th month of the old Japanese calendar, aristocrats celebrated the beauty of the autumnal full moon with poetry and music. By the 17th century, the tradition spread to farmers and townspeople, incorporating elements of a harvest festival into the admiration of the moon's rays." Moonku are plentiful for good reason. There are daymoon haiku, summer moonlight haiku, moonless night haiku, blue moon haiku, crescent moon haiku and many more. The judges found this haiku to be a unique expression of moon viewing, especially in light of the last line which employs the Japanese aesthetic, yugen, or elegant mystery. We wonder who is viewing the moon and witnessing this mysterious moment in which "a spider spins in the silver."

heat wave
the trees thicken
with the call of cicadas

— Sylvia Forges-Ryan

Sylvia Forges-Ryan illustrates a picture of summer without naming summer in the first line, and then the reader keys into the word "thicken" at the end of the second line. It is perfect for setting (and defining) this scene: The air feels thick in the midst of a heat wave, the summer trees are already dense with leaves, but then cicadas begin calling and add an additional layer which increases the feeling of thickness of the surroundings. In peak season, there are so many cicadas calling, the sound waves feel as though they take on physical form, and you can often feel them just as much as you can hear them. This haiku also thickens on the page. The first line is the shortest, the second line is longer and the third line is the longest. The shape of this haiku seeks to further express its essence.