Haiga Archive

in a second
split
we walk away
from ourselves
holding
sunshine

orchid viewing time
every year
seems shorter

thanksgiving leftovers
a tattered butterfly
among the leaves

valentine’s day
the flight steward
holds my hand

winter solitude
… first the moonlight
then the dream

deep winter
I walk the wind
into twilight

The last time here, families sharing picnic blankets and teens on beach towels crowded the lake front. I spent most of my time pretending to read, but really sneaking glances at a particular bikinied girl. I lay on my stomach to hide my lust.

This evening, the grasses are yellow, bent and worn from a summer’s use; the birch trees are barren of leaves; a windfall is spread beneath the apple tree.

resting
on the reed tip
an iridescent dragonfly

A bull frog’s “wronk, wronk, wronk” breaks my reverie. I walk to the nearby lodge and sit alone. Several couples dine in silence, staring past one another.

mountain sunset
painted turtles slumber
on a weathered log

Looking out the window, I see her again, taste that first kiss, touch her apple-hard breast.

What was her name…