Haiga Archive

on last visit
you were with me…
how time flies
and how far way in space
we fly with it

light splashing
a duck’s wake
filters sunset

end of autumn—
gray hairs gather
in their finery

I’m weary, weary
so much anger and hatred
what’s the point

the moment you realize your mid night
thoughts are fragments of a dream

the day slips
through our fingers
sunfall

silently
touching a rusty sound of the past—
countryside