Thursday, March 14, 2024

5 - 7 - 5, the process




Day’s last sunless light

chisels hillside houses clean,

scatters silvered clouds.



**



That paper-flick sound—


distinct from un-foldable,

non-scratching key-strokes.



**



Settled coffee warms

the wanting stomach—house-chills

wrap ankles and feet.



**



If one were to ask

about these little tellings,

less said is better.



**



healthy love re-fills


itself overflows each cup


more…never enough




**



bulb-flowers bobble

all the paths calling for spring


to just hurry-up



**



March means light meets me

at the door now, horizons

already past-tense.



**



light waves many ways,

often off the spread fingers

of those with no hands



**



after Nanao Sakaki


flames do re-ignite,

this we know; but it’s hidden

heat that knows the breeze

and passions that glow the same—

just break the mirror old man



**



Someone ate my leeks,

knowing before I the time

had come for harvest.

Cabbages are gone, roots chewed.

Only kale remains, tall and mute.



**



Ants roam at will.

I can’t seem to out-think them.

We seek different things.



**



Chilled air doesn’t stop

ants their long strings of tracking,

nor my following.



**



I dreamed I touched you,

your fingers    squeezed   in the night

I woke and dropped them.



**



When asked, and it is,

why this left coast, not the right?


Left is right for me.



**



Walking with Jesus?


Many friends and family do.

And I walk with them.



**



That I don’t like you 

says nothing of harm or hate.

We may become friends,

your bite become your humor,

your criticism helpful.



**



Those white cupped flowers

Mom loved so much, drip with dew

and last night’s rain drops.



**



How the quiet spreads

around pooled syllables, how 

the heart finds its rest.



**



What comes first—motion

or sensor—what of the light—

when and what it shows ??



**



Haiku single out

significance—the old sage

says so, conviction


double-underscored, the pen,

medium pointed smooth blue.



**



Drizzled-grey returns.

Glistening morning streets swish

with songs of headlights.



**



How many checks made

out to who for what—click-click;

again click. All done.



**



Takahashi said

time brakes, time breaks, for no one.


Coffee, and a sweet.


No comments:

Post a Comment