Haiga Archive

sometimes
it all seems too much
to bear,
but then comes the rain
and a wood thrush singing

floating stars
on the whispering tide
moonglow

ripples in the sky—
the hawk’s plumage bands
spreading as he soars

night sky
travelers find
the way home

dry lightning
burdening passing clouds
with prayers for rain

absent corncrake
no sight or sound of the bird
on this corncrake day

bloom though shadows fall
quietly, the sun still sings
the mourning whispers