Blow, gentle wind, blow— across the burdened trees, and bend the branches low. The fury of the sun scorched what he had won before his reign was done. And all the leaves are charred and doomed, but clinging hard to the life that left them scarred. Fall, weary leaves, fall, so the wind […]Read more "Surrender"
The golden leaves have fallen now— cracked and brown and dying, swirling in the autumn air that slips around me, sighing. All that’s left of a youthful dream, conceived in winter’s wait and born beneath the sun’s warm gaze when all the trees create. So soft—the pink and white unfolding— blossoms on the trees that […]Read more "The Golden Leaves"
Creaking with the cold: groaning, sugar-sprinkled pond. Highway for a squirrel. – Plunks of sky break glass. Tiny ringlets: small, then large. Spirals in a pond. – Water flees away! Restless waves reverberate. The tire swing sways. – Whirling with the wind, ghostly whisks of red and brown mirrored in the glass – – – […]Read more "Seasons: Four Haiku"