Haiga Archive

white sand
impressions
your thoughts over mine

end of the day
a few coals still glowing
in the grate

sleeping late—of late
the plaintive cry
of a lone goose

after months
of deflecting sunlight
I now angle
the mini blinds so the sun
can enter this rented room

winter evening
silhouette—
still life with branches

undressing for bed
closing tight the drapes
to hide the moon

We forget we’re
mostly water
till the rain falls
and every atom
in our body
starts to go home