Haiga Archive

climate change
an old gardener
goes native

good times
remain in my heart
cilnging
like an ocean mist…
the day we met

goldfinches
have fledged and flown away…
in silence
the gathering wind
whispers to me

everywhere at once
tiny bursts of color
in late winter
it is always you
i fall for again

morning stillness
the murmur of shore birds
in the shallows

shadow and light
knitted together
in the wind
my hand and yours
become one

first summer
a young cottontail stays
close to mama