Haiga Archive

cold twilight
hurrying to home and hearth
and mom’s beef stew;
a story for grandchildren
about the good old days

differences
bloom in silence—
orchid spire

burning leaves
her face vanishes
into dusk

mouth of the cave
we enter as eagles
exit as sparrows

autumn—
just
the
measured
flap
of
wings…

little bird
in my honey-suckle
bush
just outside
my window
Bird A-flutter
I am sure she is
up to no good

lull in the conversation
a gnat
circles the wine glass