wiping sand
from the broken conch . . .
summer’s end

Published by

Mark E. Brager

Mark E. Brager lives with his wife and son in Columbia, MD, just outside of Washington, DC, where he works as a public affairs executive. His poems have appeared in haijinx, Prune Juice, Haiku Pix Review, The Heron's Nest, Notes from the Gean, and DailyHaiku.

9 thoughts on “”

  1. your attentiveness to the broken conch is sensitive and tender. A loving gesture in a world of turmoil.
    Thank you, Mark.

    Reply

  3. __ Thanks for your grand reminder, Mark, you've made my thoughts wander back… to another place and time. At Schoodic Point, in the "fifties" and hopefully now, there were no beaches; then, there was simply the rumbled sounds of time's-tides. _m

    gray Quahog
    clings to its weed laced wall
    low tide stones

    Reply

  4. In a time when so many cast off (even at first glance) what is broken, I thought about the beauty of broken things (people too). Endings speak to me about the cycle of life … the beginnings that follow … the place where we start from. I'm reminded of these words from T.S. Eliot:

    "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning.
    The end is where we start from."

    Thank you for your haiku, Mark.

    choosing the broken conch
    abandoned by others
    summer's end

    Reply

Respond here