Haiga Archive

trills of birds—
I get away from the trees
to see the forest

frost— the smile of a missing girl
in the window

first snowflakes
on the weckage
of a boat…
the same dog from yesterday
walking on the shore

birthday guest—
in the blown open door
no one but the moon

morning chill
of your pillow next to mine—
first frost

lock on the gate—
forget-me-nots peep
through the fence

walking back and forth
on my own footsteps
dying embers