Haiga Archive

open window
my eyes filled with
spring light

stars winking…
the crooked smile
of a crescent moon

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

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

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

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

sacred place
on a rocky hill
old stone steps