muddy path
hard to say
which trace is older
morning sadness
the soft pink
of cold lime tree tea
grandma's thin voice
the soup ladder
fills with milk
flickers
a newspaper turned yellow
under the firewood
old books
filling the closet
the pain to let go
autumn begins
such merriment in the dance
of late butterflies
September
the scarecrow welcomes
a butterfly
downhill
the old man's pitchfork
heavy with the sun
what I miss now:
my primary school
white starched collar
starless
my silence
mirrors, mirrors
heavy grape vault
the way we slip
over blacks
dark rings
mother's fingers
stirring the coffee
the woodpecker's home
in our garden -
empty rocking chair
the way we smiled
solely
leaping over waves
a bigger shadow
engulfs my shadow -
moon rising
Gypsy children
their smiles
pinker than their shirts
on my own again
the fortune tellers
cross my way
no address
just our old photo
in an envelope
finally spring
raining through a hole
in my shoes
this mirror
framed in wood -
old man's razor
memories ...
unzipping the blue sheath
of my mandolin
peaceful Sunday
people come back from church
sharing umbrellas
star gazing
he memorizes
my palm lines
*
*
Brilliant! Haiku from one of my most favourite haiku writers! :-)
RăspundețiȘtergereAlan, With Words
Thank you very much Alan for your kind words.
RăspundețiȘtergere