first thaw
pink petals
in the elevator
Author: Bouwe Brouwer
Bouwe Brouwer (08-03-1977) is a primary school teacher who lives
in Sneek, The Netherlands. He's interested in haiku, haibun, short stories and photography. Website: www.bouwebrouwer.com / www.instagram.com/bouwebrouwer
museum hall
children study
their echoes
seaside rest home
the gentle swell
of his belly
sunrise
from village to village
a rooster’s crow
the writer
we exchange
a few words
low tide
the silent contractions
of a jellyfish
a sliver of moon
she asks if he really
exists
moving through
the summer moon
slow swell
frost on the furrows
up to the vanishing point—
sunrise
across his face
the light that slowly moves
across his field
outgoing tide
the old sailor’s gaze
moves inward
Normandy Beach the screams of gulls
day long drizzle —
in the mailbox
one windowed envelope
last leaves –
his white breath dissolves
in the garden
blackbird song –
the name of a daughter
i’ll never know
tree stump the unfiltered full moon’s light
abandoned beach house
slowly the dunes
move in
spring blossoms our newborn before language
autumn leaves
an old window in the yard
reflects the sky
stifling heat
a spoon full of flies
on the motel table
day long rain
the missing numbers
on the remote control
an autumn leaf
flutters back to zero
on the hopscotch court
the road trip
not as planned –
thistle fluff
single father
my daughter cooks me
a make-believe dinner
holiday park
in every cottage
a different summer