Haiga Archive

morning
eases in slowly
one day
i’ll wake with you gone
to someone elses’ dream

last day of autumn
the weight and shape
of the garden

winter light herring gulls cry in the distance

a blade descending—
the serrated edge
of mountains

How long have I been sitting here,
O Nautilus
shell densely wedged beneath this hopeful wisp
of sapphire sky
or pared-back moon,
my February gray?

peonies nod
the added weight of
rain and ants

leaving the trees early april sun
The spring wind is blowing warm. Just above the trees a swift flying crow heads stright for the lake. A sudden cross wind gusts and knocks the crow sideways, nearly flipping it over. It lets out a startled caw but quickly recovers and continues on.