Haiga Archive

Mother’s Day—
taking a selfie
in front of her grave

drift away
these white clouds
all hopes
of rainshowers
in my barren life

the way home…
a cow’s bell drips
the evening glow

new day
each step
a first step

mildewed kitchen
the moth in the corner
adapting

some chaos
of noisy birds and then again,
emptiness—
words are so ephemeral
I’d rather draw it for you

moonbeams
on tender leaves
—night caress