Haiga Archive

sunny day
polka dots returning to
fashion

your love
raising me from
the ashes
and i fear so
a cold hearth again

my vision blurred
i need not a doctor for
the eyes
this pain of forgiveness
healing my torn heart

my keyboard…
those strong and rough
artisan’s hands

silent echo
of the northern lights—
young paleontologist

these smashing winds
let them pound on our
young love
while we are building
our own babel tower

after the spring storm
the whole street chirping
in the gutter