I have completed and survived all 28 days of the haiku challenge by responding to daily word prompts by Michael Dylan Welch.  Writing to such prompts can easily become a process that bears only a marginal connection with that place from which these little poems rise.  Having said that, the creativity of the human imagination is unlimited and has the potential to discover connections with the universal in and through the most mundane and unpoetic of objects.  Whatever poems one somehow creates out of this communal routine, there is fun to be had in seeing where the leap from the prompt takes one.
#1 banjo
sour grapes
the twang of magpies
through the trees
#2 brother
sunset fire
a blood brotherhood
of praise
#3 bandaid 
festering sky —
a child gathers bandaids 
from the cliff bottom 
#4 black
for the sky
a mix of cyan, yellow
and magenta
#5 bump
foggy path
her otherness bumps
into mine 
I I I —
all the ids that thud
in the night
I stumble among
undetonated egos . . .
haiku killing field
#6 battery
summer breeze
the sudden silence
of caged hens
#7 box 
sudden chill
a family boxes in
on itself
#8 bounce
morning jog
liveliness springs
from her step
#9 belief
first light . . .
I awaken to a dream
of myself
#10 bean
autumn dusk . . .
afterglow of peace, love
and mung beans
#11 biscuit
little sparrow . . .
biscuit crumbs trail
before her
#12 break
sound of water —
a haiku hinges on 
this line break
#13 book
rain forest . . .
all the trees not found
in my books 
#14 betrayal
valentine's day
the wandering eyes
of a blackbird
#15 busker
still not found
what he is looking for
night busker
#16 bicycle
my unicode
built for two
#17 bagel
lenten vows
on her ring finger
a bagel
#18 burrito
summer heat
a burrito brays
after itself
#19 baby
in the bowl
a wailing madonna's
pregnancy tissue
#20 bling
Huysmans' tortoise . . .
a hip-hop pimp hobbling
under guilt
#21 brussels sprouts
almost there
the sprouting of green
on the stalk
#22 barn
 bumper harvest time —
a rich man plans bigger barns
to hoard his excess
#23 beehive
thunder hive
a taste of honey
from the rock
#24 boat
before Charon
summer ends
#25 braid
to this end
the twists and turns
of her finger
#26 brew
end of summer —
what spectres bubble
from the mud pool?
#27 button
cold war —
the rehearsal of
a button press
#28 bridge
the other —
my shadow bridges 
its abyss

an apple
here in hiding
. . . nothing more


along this path
a bellbird chimes descant
to my footsteps —
she listens to the way
I sing inside my head

war rumours
a wood pigeon
moves tree

moonless night . . .
the persistence
of nothing

empty glasses
amid protestations
of love

sound of water
a child counts tadpoles
on one hand

first light . . .
I awaken to a dream
of myself

late mail . . .
I catch a whisper
of snow

white noise . . .
cicadas flesh out

day moon . . .
the gap between shot
and victim

moon-haunted sky —
a night bird sounds out
that which was

in a foreign tongue
word the wind

suckling child . . .
silence gathers
within her

joyful decade . . .
the undercurrent
of cicadas

withered fields . . .
a corporate think tank
traps the rain

end of summer . . .
light grows heavy with heat
and cicadas

after dark
more than just echoes
the cicadas

summer's end
the morepork gives out
an aged sound

failing light . . .
my feet outrun the dust
of another town