Haiga Archive

the great war—
my grandfather’s story
still chills my heart
hungry soldiers in the trench
yet the snow… all that snow

as i walk
humming ‘autumn leaves’
the wind steals
the memory of your voice
and my tears

gathering
my thoughts from the bottom of
the pond
the nocturnal bird’s call echoes
from the glistening bass scales

wave after wave…
this solitary road
where to?

deserted promenade—
an old man walking
his shapka

a gust of wind
cherry petals filling
the seedling holes

rustling steps
the wind sweeps colorful thoughts
from the path