When my wife and I moved to Syracuse, we used to go up to the rose garden for walks. Well, on Saturdays, it's like one out of three brides in Syracuse would go up there for a picture op. You'd get run over by brides. Brides, grooms, the whole wedding party. So it just hit me as wedding dresses blooming. It was almost instantaneous. That haiku came right out.

One Saturday, while doing research on glass candlesticks in the downtown library, an aggressive page kept re-shelving my books, each time I went to find more books. Finally I decided to just sit in my carrel and confront the page, and tell her to leave my books alone. So I was daydreaming away, looking out the window and the haiku came to me: Here I sit in my little glass box