Haiga Archive

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

rolling fields
the gentle sway
of a scarecrow

on last visit
you were with me…
how time flies
and how far way in space
we fly with it

on the beach
promenade
the toddler walks
hand in hand with dad—
morning star

autumn eve—
a pair of oaks
cradle the sun