Haiga Archive

my vision blurred
i need not a doctor for
the eyes
this pain of forgiveness
healing my torn heart

these smashing winds
let them pound on our
young love
while we are building
our own babel tower

gathering
my thoughts from the bottom of
the pond
the nocturnal bird’s call echoes
from the glistening bass scales

silent echo
of the northern lights—
young paleontologist

fishing
still as a stump
the heron and I

a quake…
mt eyes in search
of the sun

after the spring storm
the whole street chirping
in the gutter