Haiga Archive

I return to find
the swans of Belle Isle
survived another winter
even though an icy wind yet
lifts and pales each feather

fall drizzle
a woman bent
to her walker

I sit up watching
the summer moon fade
a man my age
when wakened
doesn’t sleep again

last night’s dream the first
in which I no longer was
a younger man—
I square my shoulders
in the heavy summer air

first time
kissing a grandmother
for real

my poems, will you
read them to your lover
tonight?
weary, I watch the pale stars
light the way home

scatter of fallen leaves—
the black dog
waiting