Haiga Archive

winter grasses feathering the snow

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

morning hoarfrost—
as if the chrysanthemums
had blossomed overnight

flood plain
a red barn succumbs
to its reflection

a long afternoon
the rhythm of words
and shadows

catching the wind…
cherry petals
through my fingers

wildfires…
history repeats itself
even the bad one