2024 Hexapod Haiku Challenge Announcement

Congratulations to all the poets who participated in the 2024 Hexapod Haiku Challenge!

We had yet another record-breaking year. About 1,300 haiku were submitted by more than 420 participants, hailing from 38 countries (and American Samoa!). 246 people participated in our new special category, which for this year was aquatic arthropods. We hope this event encouraged everyone to explore watery habitats and to learn about the arthropods that live there. Next year’s special category will be announced soon. Stay tuned!

The organizers extend a special thanks to Anne Burgevin, for her guidance and participation in this haiku challenge.

Below are the selected haiku from this year’s challenge, which are now on temporary exhibit at the Frost Entomological Museum. The haiku are organized by age category and the author’s last name, with notes on each from the judges. The selection process is blind, and our judges look for haiku that are well constructed and which highlight interesting observations of, and interactions with, the insect world. We hope you enjoy the selections as well.

12 & Under Laureates

dinner table
the fly too
takes a seat

–Karthik Chalamala Setti, India

General Submission

With this haiku, we can imagine a fly landing on the table and looking as if it is expectantly waiting for dinner to be served. Most people are familiar with the behavior of house flies rubbing their hands together, like they are excited about their next meal. This is not truly a gesture of expectation, but rather a grooming behavior to make sure the sensory organs on its legs are clean, so it can gather as much information about its environment as possible. These insects taste with their feet. Some of the bristles on a fly’s legs have pores at the apices, which are associated with gustatory receptors. A fly needs to keep these taste buds clean. Karthik’s haiku is light (like a fly), the last line surprises the reader, and the humor is subtle. In a deeper sense, the author may possibly be expressing the interrelationship humans have with the animal world. That is, we all have a seat at the table.

damselfly
the breeze gains
a new hue

–Seby Ciobica, Romania

General Submission

Damselflies are closely related to dragonflies and carry many of the same adaptations—e.g., large eyes, netted wings, and spiny legs for grabbing prey. They are adept aerial predators, who often exhibit similarly brilliant color patterns as adults. Their immature stages, called naiads (or larvae or nymphs), live under water and are usually a dull green or brown color. One can differentiate damselflies, because they are usually more slender and shorter than dragonflies, and they typically hold their wings alongside their bodies when at rest, rather than spread out

Seby brings the reader into a moment where a damselfly catches the light at just the right angle to highlight its iridescent green hues or pastel palette and contrast against (or complement?) the sky. In just seven words, one can feel the wind and the sun, and appreciate the striking beauty of these small animals. Like the way we see colors change before our eyes on a continual basis as sunlight brightens and fades, so does Seby’s wind take on hues which shift and fade according to the things he is noticing around him. Does the wind have hues? The synesthetic aspect of Seby’s haiku is remarkable in our estimation.

fishing with dad
a diving bell spider
checks the bait

–Seby Ciobica, Romania

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Diving bell spiders (Argyroneta aquatica) live under water, often resting inside a silken balloon they replenish with air carried from the surface. Currently it is the only known spider to live a nearly fully aquatic life, and it has been the subject of much research ... but rarely, if at all, the focus of a haiku. (One judge, who reads thousands of haiku every year, has never read a haiku with a diving bell spider in it. Another judge has read more than 3,000 haiku about spiders, none of which mentioned this species.)

The juxtaposition in Seby’s haiku sets up an intriguing scene, focused on the activity of a father and child fishing. Interestingly, there is another animal in the vicinity, and it is not a fish. While the fisherman usually checks the bait, in Seby’s haiku a diving bell spider is checking it. Even though the reader may not know what type of spider this is, already there is a curiosity about a spider that lives in the water. Seby’s haiku draws the reader in and stimulates a desire to know more about the world of aquatic arthropods. A child going fishing with a parent is a common activity. A diving bell spider is anything but common. The vertical structure of the poem also effectively separates the activities above (fishing with dad) and below (checks the bait) the water line. In a loving scene, dad forges a stronger bond with the child, while the spider makes sure the bait remains intact. Or does the spider intend to steal the bait? Therein, lies yet another layer of Seby’s juxtaposed images.

summer warmth
the praying mantis
walks slowly

–Ekin Dükel, Türkiye

General Submission

Insects are “cold blooded” (poikilothermic), meaning they generally rely on the environment to provide the warmth needed for bodily functions, rather than generating the heat metabolically themselves, as “warm-blooded” or homeothermic animals do. One consequence of this trait is that insects move slowly when it is cold outside.

Ekin establishes a calm and comfortable scene (“summer warmth”). Warmth also delivers the environmental energy needed for insects to move quickly. One can almost feel the sun on their face, basking on a warm summer day, while insects buzz and fly around. Yet the subject of this haiku moves slowly. Mantises are ambush predators, who use their sharp vision to identify prey and spiny, raptorial fore legs to capture it. Perhaps this mantis spies another insect, and she needs to reposition herself ... ever ... so ... slowly ... so as not to alert the potential prey of her presence. Ekin’s haiku transitions the reader from warm comfort through an increasingly tense scene, as the mantis activates her predatory instincts. We are drawn to what is and is not being expressed in Ekin’s haiku. It offers no closure, leaving the reader to dream their own ending.

12 & Under Honorable Mentions

Sankranti
a box of sweets
for the sugar ants too

–Vivan Agrawal, India

General Submission

To fully appreciate Vivan’s haiku first consider the “sugar ant,” a common name applied to many species of Camponotus, a lineage of ants that includes more than 1,000 species. Many species are minor pests, as they invade cupboards to forage on sweet treats (or excavate our wooden structures to construct nests, as carpenter ants do). Secondly, you will be glad to make acquaintance with a holiday called Makar Sankranti, a Hindu observance and festival that celebrates the sun’s transition from the southern to northern hemispheres, the receding of winter, and the promise of new beginnings. It is a day to set differences aside, live harmoniously together and share a sweet treat. In some communities, children visit peoples’ houses and ask for treats during this holiday.

The first two lines of this haiku set a familiar scene for this holiday, and warmly welcomes the reader into the festivities. The last line surprises. Perhaps sugar ants are welcome participants, rather than pests. Or has someone gone to the cupboard to retrieve a box of sweets for friends at the door, only to discover that their stash has been raided by six-legged neighbors? We appreciate Vivan’s ambiguous meaning. In this regard, the author makes sure not to tell the reader how or what to think or feel. Additionally, repeated sounds—Sankranti, sweets, sugar ants—provide euphony when read aloud and add a little more sweetness to this festive haiku.

an isopod
on a hydrothermal vent–
watching it erupt

–Skaya Baruah, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Hydrothermal vents are cracks in the ocean floor, usually near volcanoes, where heated ocean water, rich in minerals, spews forth and supports complex communities of sea creatures, including arthropods. These habitats exist in places that are very difficult to observe, usually requiring a deep-diving submersible. 

In this haiku the reader finds a deep-sea isopod (relative of the pillbug referred to in Tom Painting’s haiku below) near one such hydrothermal vent as the smoke-like plume of minerals pours out of the vent. Humans have watched campfires, the release of carbon from organic matter, for eons. Perhaps isopods have watched the entropic release from deep within the earth’s crust for eons as well. Although it would be unlikely that Skaya observed this phenomenon firsthand, she clearly involved herself in firsthand research about the life of an isopod and the hydrothermal vents in its environment. We encourage all the Hexapod Haiku Contest poets to study, observe, and understand the subjects they write about. Skaya, you inspire us.

first guest

knocking at my window
a cockchafer

–Seby Ciobica, Romania

General Submission

Cockchafers (Melolontha melolontha) are beetles in the scarab family, who often nibble on plants in European gardens—eating flowers as adults and roots when they are larvae—habits that some people consider pestiferous. The adults fly at dusk and are attracted to lights (a behavior referred to as “positive phototaxis”), often bouncing against windows to reach a person’s reading lamp.

In this haiku, the reader witnesses such a scene, perhaps at a new house. A cockshafer announces its presence to the occupants, who have just moved in. Are the residents disappointed that their first guest is a pest, rather than a friendly neighbor or an old friend? Perhaps they are excited to learn that their neighborhood supports insect life? Or maybe the knocker is a person, and the homeowner, before they can answer the call, is distracted by the sight of such a compelling creature. Oh, a cockchafer!

The event described in this haiku also reminded one judge of a common collecting method, called a “flight intercept trap”, whereby a clear barrier is set up above a tray filled with soapy water (or propylene glycol or some other trapping medium). Insects, especially beetles, fly into the barrier and fall into the tray. These collecting devices are sometimes referred to as “window pane traps”. Perhaps the homeowner is an entomologist, witnessing their first catch at a new site!

In a woodland pond
Speeding over the water
A water strider

–Conrad Noah, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Water striders live their lives on the surface of still water, where they search for dead or drowning insects to eat. Water striders interest scientists for many reasons, but this ability to move quickly on water's surface, using hydrophobic hairs on their legs to stay afloat, is an especially compelling and productive research topic. Water striders likewise serve as the focal point of many haiku, going back centuries, especially the illusion of water striders skating between clouds (i.e., the reflection of the sky in the water).

This haiku provides an alternate interpretation on a common subject. Conrad’s first line immerses us in a woodland setting. For many people this is a familiar experience. One can smell the humus underfoot, as while gazing upon the pond. The repetition of water words—pond, water, water—reinforces the aquatic nature of the moment. The quickness of the insect’s movement, and even the word “speeding”, transports us into the minds of our young selves, finding novelty and celebrating this insect’s extraordinary, almost superpower-like ability to speed across water—a trait that hopefully remains a source of wonder no matter our age.

13 - 17 Laureates

A blue dragonfly
an aerial predator
searches for insects

–Claire Conroy, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Dragonflies are extraordinarily adept aerial predators. A few interesting adaptations include: (1) large, highly foveated compound eyes that wrap around their heads and help pinpoint prey; (2) spiny, forward facing legs that facilitate prey capture; (3) a head that is loosely attached to the thorax, so that it can move around as the insect speeds up, slows down, and changes direction, providing sensory feedback in flight (similar to a statocyst).

This haiku opens by revealing a blue dragonfly and then alerts the reader to “an aerial predator”. In doing so, the author quietly draws our attention to the blue sky. The dragonfly is certainly an aerial predator. Is this haiku about the dragonfly finding its prey? Is the poet contrasting the beauty of its vibrant blue—a color usually associated with serenity, spirituality, and creativity—against its instincts as a hunter of hapless insects? The last line offers some yūgen, or a sense of mystery. Perhaps the aerial predator is a bird, who eyes the dragonfly as something to eat. Creating various points of view in a haiku is no small task. We think the poet has done a marvelous job constructing a haiku that provides readers with possibilities. The hunter becomes the hunted, and our sympathy shifts from the dragonfly’s prey to the dragonfly as prey.

night
the rising frequency
of cricket songs

–Harshvardhan Joshi, India

General Submission

The setting is unequivocal—night. In this time and place, there are things to hear and feel, but not to see. The second line, “rising frequency” has an open quality to it, and we are left to contemplate its meaning. Is the season progressing, allowing crickets to morph into adults, gain their wings, and more and more are now able to sing? Or are the songs faster because it is a hot summer night, and the high temperature causes the crickets to sing at a quicker pace? Cricket songs are often referenced in haiku, but Harshvardhan brings a unique phenological element to the table for readers to ponder. Because the author has shared his nighttime experience with us, we are now attuned to listening for a rising frequency.

the school bell
a stink bug crawls
from my pencil box

–Josip Kraljic, Croatia

General Submission

Haiku intentionally present something objective but with an underlying emotion, and this poem exemplifies that element. Instead of writing implements or erasers spilling from the pencil box, it is a stink bug, and the reader is left to interpret whether this is a welcome or unwelcome surprise. The stink bug emerging from a hidden place has a seasonal quality to it, as many species seek places to hide for the winter, eventually to emerge in the spring. Josip’s haiku was constructed with simple language and short words. It activates the senses with the sound of the school bell, the smell of the stink bug, the feel of an old wooden pencil box, and the way one’s school might smell (waxed floors, polished desks) in the beginning of the school year. Josip has written a haiku that will linger in our thoughts.

cascading wave
the horseshoe crab
scutters into the sand

–Frances McIlvoy, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Despite their common name, horseshoe crabs are not actually crabs but rather are part of a group of arthropods called “chelicerates”. They are more closely related to spiders and scorpions than they are to crabs. Horseshoe crabs are interesting for many reasons. For one, they are often referred to as “living fossils”, as the horseshoe crabs in the fossil record are extraordinarily like their present-day kin, as if they have barely changed their shape over more than 400 million years of evolution. These arthropods also exhibit a distinctive and provocative egg laying behavior, spawning primarily under a full or new moon along the shorelines of beaches. Horseshoe crabs arrive in waves, with thousands on the shoreline at any given time. This haiku’s “cascading wave” could refer to an ocean wave crashing, but it may also be creatively describing the hordes of horseshoe crabs arriving at the shore. The cah sounds of “cascading wave” and “scutters” provide euphony, when reading this haiku aloud. At times, one word in a haiku can create its own energy and intrigue. In this case we were drawn to “scutters”, which is at once descriptive and uncommon. Frances’ haiku also includes effective sensory elements: wave, sand, the allusion to night. One can almost hear the waves crash, smell the salt spray, and feel the crunch of sand beneath one's feet.

13 - 17 Honorable Mention

bell curve
a bumblebee bends
a blade of grass

–Ianis Baetu, Romania

General Submission

The alliterative nature of b sounds in this haiku creates euphony. What the bell curve suggests remains unstated, providing mystery and allowing readers to add their own interpretation. This term has mathematical meaning and visual interpretation as well. Did Ianis think of the curve of a bell, the bumble bee the clapper, when they saw the bee on the blade of grass? This really got us thinking. Ianis’s innovative haiku pivots to concrete imagery, that of a bumblebee’s heavier body bending a soft blade of grass. Was it landing for a rest? Nesting? Although most bumblebees nest underground, some do nest on the ground surface in protected and unexposed areas like grass tussocks.

flowing stream
flipping rocks
young mayfly swims away

–Amanda Zheng, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

This haiku captures a moment that exemplifies the spirit (and our goal) of the aquatic arthropods special category. Someone, maybe the poet, got their feet wet in an aquatic habitat, in search of the wildlife that lives there. Perhaps that is why we are so drawn to it. The second line, “flipping rocks”, implies that someone is conscientiously exploring and interacting with hidden elements of the natural world. The words “flowing” and “flipping” in the first two lines provide an alliterative and almost onomatopoeic quality to the haiku. “F” sounds are active. In the end, young mayflies swim away, leaving the reader with a bit of sadness, but also hope of new life and new beginnings. Perhaps next year we will see this mayfly again, but instead of swimming in the water, it will be taking flight.

18 & Older Laureates

distant thunder—
water striders dimple
the slackwater

–Jenny Ward Angyal, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Where other insects might sink into water or struggle, trapped in its surface tension, water striders have adaptations that facilitate locomotion in this unique habitat. Their legs are covered in hydrophobic hairs and are especially long to distribute their body weight over sufficient surface area. These features, in combination with the surface tension of the water, ensure that water striders stay afloat, creating the “dimples” referenced in this haiku. The author paints a portrait of the calm before the storm, pulling the reader’s focus from the towering cumulonimbus to something serene and minuscule by comparison. At times, haiku poets may allude to another haiku. It is possible Jenny was alluding to Gary Hotham’s well-known English-language haiku:

distant thunder-
the dog’s toenails click
against the linoleum*

Jenny, like Gary, uses the sound of thunder in the distance to effectively suggest emotions

*Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years edited by Jim Kacian, Philip Rowland, and Allan Burns (W. W. Norton & Company, 2013)

crayfish bucket...
tipping the morning
back into the creek

–Brad Bennett, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Crayfish are common aquatic arthropods, found in fresh and brackish water of streams, swamps, ponds, and lakes worldwide. They are larger than most aquatic insects and are relatively easy to spot in the water. Unlike most of the arthropods mentioned in this announcement, crayfish are regularly eaten by humans, which leads to the question - what is the bucket for? Is someone collecting crayfish for a meal? Or are they merely exploring aquatic life, such as kids might do at a summer camp? The ellipsis after the first line denotes the passing of time, or slow movement in the groggy hours of the early morning. The phrase, spanning lines two and three, is whimsical. One can imagine the morning sky reflected off the water that is being tipped back into the creek. The intrigue of the second line tempts the reader to find out how it is possible to tip the morning, and so they read on, like the way water flows from a bucket. For us, Brad’s sensitively constructed haiku suggests that it is just as important to return animals to their natural environment and reset the balance of a stream, for example, as it is to study and observe them.

armyworms

cut my chard
into lace

–Krislyn Koehn, United States

General Submission

This haiku deftly balances hard and soft words and pleasant and unpleasant experiences. The words “army" and "cut" are tempered by leaves of chard and the softness of lace. The poet describes a familiar and often unpleasant experience, i.e. that moment of finding a pest in your garden, eating the same plants you intended to eat. This is accompanied by the experience of observing and appreciating the patterns in the chard that are left behind and finding beauty in it. Why would a cutworm caterpillar eat only parts of the leaf, leaving a lace-like pattern instead of eating it entirely? One possible explanation is that some caterpillars will avoid eating the veins of leaves because that is where plants will store defensive chemicals that could harm the animals that eat the plant. 

Notably, Krislyn’s haiku is a complete sentence. There is no obvious cut between part a and part b, although this haiku has the word “cut” in it. She uses the last line very effectively and surprises her readers with a refreshing and unique resolution. After the tension created by “armyworms” and "cut," readers can relax as they discover these hexapods have sculpted something beautiful. In this sense, there are two distinct parts in Krislyn’s well crafted haiku.

ending
the conversation
greenheads

–Barrie Levine, United States

General Submission

This wonderfully succinct poem shows a nearly universal experience. Biting flies can be such a nuisance. They can cause us to stop whatever we are doing and just walk away from a conversation or activity. Barrie’s haiku is a small reminder (like the small bodies of these flies) of how much human behavior and society is influenced by the presence of insects. The author brings levity to this unpleasant experience with a bit of humor in the last line, which comes as a surprise. The name “greenhead” itself is even a bit silly, reflecting the giant green eyes that encompass nearly the entire head of the fly. Did anyone imagine a bobble-head? There is an effective open-endedness to this haiku, leaving room to ponder things like: What was the conversation about? Was it serious? How long did the people try to continue the conversation before giving up? And impressively, all these questions arise from a mere four words! The author’s last line ends the haiku just as the conversation ended … with greenheads.

child proof
a pillbug passed
hand-to-hand

–Tom Painting, United States

General Submission

Pillbugs—also sometimes called woodlice, roly polies, potato bugs, or doodlebugs—are often one of the first arthropods kids observe up close due to their ubiquity and ease of capture. However, these arthropods are rarely referenced in haiku. “Child proof” alludes to a moment of wonder and excitement, while also touching on an interesting behavior. When threatened, pillbugs roll up into a tight ball, to protect their head and appendages, exposing only their armor-like exoskeleton. This behavior is called "conglobation”. The phrase “hand-to-hand" is connected by hyphens, like the children’s hands which are connected passing the pillbug from one to the other.

We find the euphony in this haiku captivating. The first two lines end in sharp, clipped sounds (“proof”, “passed”). The final line, and the a-ha moment, is softer, just as the softness of children’s hands, or the hushed moment when a child holds a pillbug for the first time. The “p" letters remind the reader of the shape of pillbugs, as well. This fine haiku encourages readers to carefully observe, admire, and hold a pillbug.

singing meadow
grasshoppers everywhere
our children aren't

–Ben Oliver Stroud, United Kingdom

General Submission

There is a lot to appreciate about Ben’s haiku. “Singing meadow” has a happy feeling to it. Who or what is singing? Perhaps the children, or adults, or grasshoppers, or everyone! Ben adeptly uses the Japanese aesthetic of space (ma) in his haiku. Interestingly, he engages his readers to imagine negative space while conveying the relationship between where his children are not and where the grasshoppers are in the meadow. We imagined waves of grasshoppers leaping out of the way in response to the movement of the children. The judges found this haiku to embody a creative expression of space and movement. It is also possible that Ben is subtly referring to the phenomenon of nature-deficit disorder, a term created by author Richard Louv, in his seminal book Last Child in the Woods, and part of a growing body of research which explores the importance of children having direct experience with the natural world, something our contest strongly supports. We hope the contest encourages everyone of all ages to go out and enjoy nature and look for some hexapods.

18 & Older Honorable Mentions

first date

in a while
crickets

–Peter Free, New Zealand

General Submission

“Crickets” is often used as a metaphor, to describe dead conversations or quiet, uncomfortable moments. Is the date still in progress and going poorly? Perhaps it is going well, and two people are sharing a moment, basking in the sounds of the night. The middle line acts as a hinge line. Creating a hinge line is an interesting technique in haiku because it adds layers of meaning. The cutting line can be after the first line or the second line. Is Peter noting a first date in a while, or that in a while crickets can be heard? Male crickets usually sing in the evening, to announce their presence, establish their territory, and, most importantly, to recruit mates. The light humor and concise nature of Peter’s haiku made it a pleasure to read.

flower shop…

a lacewing’s choice
also my choice

–Farah Ali, United Kingdom

General Submission

There are so many things to admire while in a flower shop— the colors, the shapes, the scents. The ellipses after “flower shop” in the first line suggest a passing or slowing of time and brings the reader into the flower selection process— perhaps even stopping to smell the roses. Looking at one bouquet after another, in search of the perfect flowers for the occasion, the author then sees a lacewing. Was this their deciding factor? Were they persuaded to choose a particular bouquet by the lacewing’s presence? It gives the reader pause. The repetition of the word “choice” in this haiku emphasizes the shared act between author and the insect and ultimately brings the human world closer to the insect world. What the choice was and why it was chosen remains unstated, a beautiful aspect of Farah’s haiku.

Lacewings are not particularly showy insects, and even less so in their immature stages. They are usually small and camouflaged. There was care taken to notice this insect, which was likely present on the flowers preying upon smaller soft-bodied insects like aphids and spider mites. Curiously, lacewings are not often written about in poetry, despite their sweet name and ubiquity in nature.

water’s edge
mud dauber’s abdomen
pulsing for air

–Randy Brooks, United States

General Submission

Mud daubers are solitary wasps, who collect prey (usually spiders) and stockpile them in nests constructed from mud, as food for their developing larvae. Their mud nests are iconic, often appearing on buildings in conspicuous places.

The opening of this haiku carries us to a scenic habitat (water’s edge), where we could expect to see myriad inspiring objects---rippling waves, tadpoles squirming among the cattails, dragonflies on patrol. Instead, the reader’s gaze is directed at a mud dauber, and not just the wasp herself but her abdomen. Perhaps she landed to get a drink or to collect mud for her nest. However, the focus is on her back end, probably raised in the air, her segments pulsing in and out, each motion a breath of air. The air moves in and out of apertures along her abdomen, called spiracles. It’s a familiar sight, the pulsing motion of a wasp’s abdomen, but one we’ve likely spent little time contemplating. “Water” and “dauber” sound very similar, a near rhyme. And the contrasting textures of “edge” (of something hard) and “pulsing” (of something squishy) add a compelling element. The second line of Randy’s haiku has a lovely cadence that reminded us of a pulsating rhythm

waves of waving
a shoreline of fiddlers
finding their mates

– Bill Fay, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

The first line, “waves of waving”, mellifluously provides a comfortable sense of place, alluding to the ocean nearby. The first line also hints at the arthropodan focus of this moment, the fiddler crabs. These small, intertidal crustaceans are well-known for the single enormous claw present in males. They use these structures, in part, to show off to potential mates, and the oversized claws are often waved around as a signal. How often do we wave to get someone’s attention? It appears we are not too different from fiddler crabs after all. The second line of Bill’s haiku uses a unique form of measurement. One might normally count the number of fiddler crabs present, but this haiku measures the fiddler crabs in shorelines. Quite a vision.

while

you were gone
wasp nest

–Denise Fontaine-Pincince, United States

General Submission

Denise writes of time passing and the idea of nature filling in the world in human’s absence. The first line, “while”, is an open-ended length of time in which it took the wasp(s) to build a nest. How long was the person gone for? What kind of nest was it? We wonder. The behavior of wasps building nests is something not often referenced in haiku. Perhaps someone who stayed behind used the ever-increasing number of larval cells in a Polistes paper nest to count the days until their loved one’s return. The days pass slowly at first, as a lone wasp (the queen) adds one cell at a time. As the colony swells with more wasps (the queen and her workers) and more and more cells are added daily, our perception of time accelerates. Denise’s captivating haiku has all one-syllable words, reminding us of the singular cells in a wasp’s nest, each one a link to the next.

riffling
beneath smooth stones
stonefly nymphs

– Mariel Herbert, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

This haiku offers compelling contrasts: soft, shapeless water smooths hard stone, which, in turn, protects the fragile lives of stonefly naiads (the immature, aquatic life stages of mayflies, stoneflies, dragonflies, and damselflies are often referred to as larvae, nymphs, or “naiads”). Stoneflies are insects that live in streams and rivers, almost always associated with fast-flowing water. In their early stages they are sensitive to pollutants, low oxygen, and poor water quality. If stonefly naiads are present, you are in a healthy aquatic habitat. In this haiku, as indicated in the first line, someone actively explores a space, turning over objects... but what and where? We imagine stones being turned, in water that must be moving (i.e., a lotic habitat) given the stones’ smooth surface and the presence of stoneflies. We bask in this pristine habitat, share the excitement of the find, and ponder the variety of life one can find hiding in places we seldom search. Mariel chose a unique verb to describe such a search. Unique verbs can help a haiku stand apart from others and convey more than one meaning or sensory experience. “Riffle” could mean to disturb, to search through quickly, or to turn over. Which one did you picture? It also is close in sound and appearance to “ripple.” How wonderful! Repeated s sounds—smooth, stones, stonefly, nymphs—mimic the sound and flow of the stream.

riding
through whale song
barnacles

– Roberta Beach Jacobson, United States

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Despite superficially looking like bivalves, which are mollusks, barnacles are aquatic arthropods. These sea creatures spend most of their life cemented in one place and can attach themselves to anything solid, like rocks, ships, flotsam, or, in this case, a whale. Roberta’s creative haiku is naturally brief but conveys a complex and often extended moment in the lives of barnacles. The image of a creature so small, sessile, and silent as a barnacle, attached to something as enormous, energetic, and thunderous as a whale, feels almost fanciful. We too can experience this ride through song, if we swim with the right species.

reddening autumn
tree branches flutter

with monarchs

– Almila Dükel Muğla, Türkiye

General Submission

The first two lines of “reddening autumn” illustrate the seasonal shift in deciduous trees when winds come through and leaves begin to lose their green hue and become red during autumn. The last line, “with monarchs” changes one’s perception of a moment, and shifts the image to monarchs reddening the color and fluttering on the branches. The order of perception in Almila’s haiku begins with a season, travels to tree branches, and lands on butterflies. As you may notice, Almila continually narrows the focal range from large to small. Speaking of big things that garner a lot of attention, as does autumn foliage, monarch migration and overwintering behavior is iconic and has been described by some as one of the most spectacular natural wonders of the world. Tens of millions of these butterflies from all over North America descend on southern Mexico and congregate en masse in an evergreen fir forest. Did Almila have this in mind while writing her rich and illustrative haiku?

still a wonder—
the spun stone case
of a Caddisfly larva

– Alan Peat, United Kingdom

Special Category: Aquatic Arthropods

Alan writes of rediscovery and admiration for the architectural feats of the caddisfly. These insects spend their larval stages in freshwater and build tiny protective cases around themselves out of silk and other objects they find in the environment, like twigs, fallen leaves, or tiny stone pebbles. “The spun stone case” beautifully describes the caddisfly’s portable home, and the alliteration in the phrase focuses our attention. An extraordinary thing about these caddisfly cases is that they are spun underwater using a substance akin to double-sided sticky tape. Understanding the properties of their tacky silk is an area of ongoing scientific research, because materials that can adhere wet objects together have many potential uses in various fields, like medicine and underwater construction.

mosquito moon

bats follow the flow
of the river

–Agnes Eva Savich, United States

General Submission

“Mosquito moon” is a creative seasonal reference to the summertime, when these biting flies are most active. One can imagine a river during the hot summer months. Water flow decreases and stagnates, blooms with algae, and creates an ideal breeding ground for mosquitoes. Bats, which eat mosquitoes and other insects, would be seen swooping through this mosquito-dense space over the river. The poet provides a fresh take on mosquito biology, featuring their role in natural ecosystems as prey, instead of their impact on humans as bloodsuckers and the source of so much whining. The sense of movement in Agnes’ haiku is provocative. Not only are the bats and mosquitoes moving, so is the river. This unit—insect, predator, ecosystem—forms a vital triumvirate of the summer season.


Thank you everyone for participating in the Hexapod Haiku Challenge 2024. We invite you to share the contest with friends, family, and fellow writers, and we hope to see you again next year!