When I in still place/

I have a muse, she washes/

Stillness, pen  dormat-daw/

Photo in my mind/

Washes a certain stillness/

Pen like its dormant-daw/

Stillness sometimes does not bring on the picture or word or words that resonate with the haiku.  I have to force feed the poetry.  It is bad.  When the poet/writer is part of me,( see site Washburn 2002), we can find the muse and the stillness finds the muse.  I have to have it all. The words must be written down.  As in this last haiku:/

Our conversations/

Words riding on azure waves /

Carried chair to chair-daw /

This is an image I can live with.  The other two are mediocre at best in my mind.  I have lost my muse along the way.  The stillness shows the Way.