Haiga Archive

on my first flight
i wished i could
touch the clouds
peering through the window…
flight of fancy

I was like a sadhu
wandering on the mountains
carefree, without bondage
then you happened
and my life found its anchor

pink rose
bit by bit the
barrenness of snow
melts

being wealthy
i’ve the protection
of a high tech fort
but i can’t handle the weeds
growing within

winter dawn
the painter’s palette spills

orange sky
on french windows
the fragrance of frost
lingers

there’s no first
or last in life
as you begin and end
in your own time
to each his own pace