The Heron's Nest

Editors' Choices

The Heron's Nest Award

What a delicious haiku we have here, evoking a Pavlovian response. My mouth is watering!

The very first word transports us to early summer with the kigo, strawberry. The June full moon is known as the Strawberry Moon, due to generations of Native and European traditions surrounding the fruit. I will assume that the strawberries in this haiku are fresh, perhaps dew-picked the same day of this culinary conundrum. Strawberry is a strong kigo as it engages almost all our senses. The fruit itself is a visual work of art, fire engine red with tiny seeds curiously borne all over the glossy conic mass. In our fingertips, the body of the ripe fruit yields slightly, enhancing the mystical braille of the seeds on the surface. When overripe, the sweet juice emerges upon picking, coating the fingertips. There is only one way to address that. In our mouths, the soft fruit gives, releasing the succulent sunshine sweetness of the fruit which instantly delights our tongues! But you know it doesn't stop there—the fruit contains hundreds of volatile aromatic compounds that make their way into our nasal passages and into our brain, merging desire and delight. To complete our inventory of the senses, it is worth noting the various sounds that come from strawberry consumption. Most of these, human-made, begin and end with "m"—mmmMMMmmm!

In this haiku, strawberry is not a still life. We have fingertips (still in the first line) stained strawberry red, indicating a familiar action, perhaps picking, or maybe slicing or processing. In its short entirety, this line may cause the reader, by habit, to lick their own fingertips. As we read on, in line two, we are about to create, following a recipe, something delectable. The most common culinary use of strawberries is simply eating them fresh, or slicing them into yogurt, or onto salad greens. I've enjoyed strawberries in so many ways—how about strawberry shortcake, watercress-strawberry salad, chocolate-covered strawberries, strawberry-lemon jam, strawberry layer cake, strawberry tart, or, it is five o'clock somewhere, a strawberry daiquiri. Just what is our poet making here? Tanya, give us a hint!

No hint is forthcoming. The ingredients in this recipe remain a mystery to us. In fact, they remain a mystery to our poet chef as well! Time to don the reading glasses. In our modern times, we don't require a cookbook to make something new—a meal, a dessert, a treat. We have access to millions of recipes online, and while I love my cookbooks, annotated and stained, I sometimes find something new, refreshing, right there, in fine print, on the cellphone, in the palm of my hand.

This haiku is a charm because it leads us on, engages us and our senses, and offers a relatable experience. (I should also note the appealing alliteration that starts this haiku.) In my time as Associate Editor here, The Heron's Nest has published various "strawberry" haiku, but I cannot remember a recent haiku in our quarterly that included glasses. Perhaps it is my age, but this comic reveal made me laugh out loud. I am glad I was wearing my glasses.

Thank you, Tanya, for this delightful haiku—just what was it that you were making that day?

Jeff Hoagland
September 2026