snow birds on the move
avians like us humans
seek warmth and sunshine
Day 24 -- #HaikuChallenge26
sharing compassion
feeling warmth in the heart stone
temperature changes
Day 18 -- #HaikuChallenge26
decadent frosting
too beautiful to devour
a feast for the eyes
Day 17 -- #HaikuChallenge26
whiff of sweet citrus
my aromatherapy
on kitchen counter
Day 16 -- #HaikuChallenge26
morning ritual
awakening the senses
smell, sight, sound, taste, touch
Day 15 -- #HaikuChallenge26
lofty intentions —
try setting the bar lower
to meet with success
Day 13 -- #HaikuChallenge26
bright winter colors
exploding beneath my feet —
a carpet of stars
Day 12 -- #HaikuChallenge26
kitchen companion
rosemary for remembrance—
tastes like summertime
Day 10 -- #HaikuChallenge26
watercolor sky
making a brief appearance
before final bow
Day 9 -- #HaikuChallenge26
a tangle of glass
beauty in its contortions
bending not breaking
Day 8 -- #HaikuChallenge26
trial and error
order out of chaos
picture emerges
Day 6 -- #HaikuChallenge26
breakfast visitor
commanding an audience
amidst the birdseed
Day 5 -- #HaikuChallenge26
packing up Christmas —
years and years of memories
in a cardboard box
Day 3 -- #HaikuChallenge26
hues of a campfire
wrap me in comfort and warmth —
winter wind howls
Day 2 -- #HaikuChallenge26
soft pillows of snow
protect us from hard edges —
the landscape whispers
Day 1 -- #HaikuChallenge26
stardust and moonbeams
help to welcome a new year —
anticipation
Notice, Write, Release...#HaikuChallenge26 Begins on January 1
January arrives softly, asking less of us than we imagine.
After the noise of the holidays and the weight of expectation that often shadows a new year, many of us find ourselves craving something simpler—something that steadies rather than demands. Enter #HaikuChallenge26: a quiet, collective practice of writing one haiku a day throughout January.
At first glance, it looks like a creative exercise. In practice, it becomes a form of mindfulness—brief, accessible, and surprisingly grounding.
Haiku slows us down just enough to notice. The pale light of a winter morning. The hush between breaths. The sound of heat clicking on. In a season that often urges reinvention and resolve, haiku invites presence instead. It reminds us that the New Year doesn’t need to be conquered; it can be witnessed.
From a stress-regulation perspective, this matters. Attention shapes the nervous system. When we pause to observe without judgment, we send subtle signals of safety. A daily haiku becomes a small ritual of regulation—a moment to land in the body and senses before moving on with the day.
What makes #HaikuChallenge26 especially supportive is its rhythm. One poem is fleeting. Thirty-one days of noticing begins to reorient how we move through time. We start to see January not as something to endure, but as something textured and alive. Ordinary moments gain contour. Quiet becomes companionable.
There is also relief in haiku’s restraint. No long reflections. No fixing. No pressure to explain. Just a few lines that say: this is what I noticed today. In that simplicity, many people find permission to begin again—each morning, each poem, each breath.
For anyone carrying stress, uncertainty, or a tender start to the year, a January haiku-a-day practice can serve as an anchor. Five minutes. A handful of words. A place to rest attention before the day unfolds.
As the year opens, #HaikuChallenge26 offers a gentle alternative to resolution-making. Notice. Write. Release. Let January meet you exactly where you are—one quiet moment, one small poem at a time.
Day 24 -- #HaikuChallenge22
traded snow for sand/
grateful to recalibrate/
now time to return
#HaikuChallenge21 -- Patterns
one tile at a time
shifting the rows and columns
patterns now emerge
#HaikuChallenge21 -- Win-Win Day
seeking out shelter
filling up at the buffet
it’s a win-win day