autumn sunlight
the old dog unearths
her favorite toy
Tag: haiga
christmas lights . . .
the ambulance flashing
in all the windows
Words Words
tinywords resumes publication, with a painting by Natalie d’Arbeloff
sunday
line of parking meters
all expired
[haiga: click URL to see image]
war ruins…
suddenly the cicadas
stop
beach party
the last drop of sunlight
caught in a glass
empty nest
empty nest
still
the bird sings
(haiga)
winterlight
a blur of birdsong
in the air
haiga
flash of yellow
a butterfly headbutts me
in my work break
again and again
a little girl makes it rain
cherry blossoms
summer breeze …
the wind generators
in unison
each
butterfly
carrying
spring
(haiga, click through for image)
first recital
all the ballerinas out of step
(haiga)
the window
overgrown with trumpet vine
my dream of flying
today slips
into the room ? hungry
on tiny paws
(haiga)
light falling everywhere ? ? ?in its own place — summer’s end (haiga)
alone at last
she chooses the road
less travelled…
in her wind-blown hair
salt air and wildflowers
(haiga)
just past mauve ? ? paddling hard for a dark shore (haiga)
we needn’t talk —
the night whispers
tales long forgotten
The many notes
of the falling rain,
all in tune.
(haiga)
Haiga
dogwood petals
falling with the rain
my thoughts in pieces
(haiga)
gossiping among themselves
their stories
centuries old
(haiga – click through to view)
first rain releasing held breath of summer
(click to see haiga)
soundless–
the rain falls from
flower to moss
(haiga)
nearly spring —
a shadow of the words
you left behind
(haiga)
spring sunlight
rose tinted glasses
accent a black eye
(haiga)
untouched for two days
my journal waits, patient
as an atom bomb
unexplored world
from behind the neighbor?s fence
a cosmos
(haiga)
calm mist
the cowbells
marching
(haiga)
first drizzle …
all that was left unsaid
in your eyes
(haiga)
dawn stillness
a blue heron
rising without a ripple
Haiga
woodpecker song
luring me deeper
into solitude
(haiga)
letting go
the party continues
without us
(haiga)
wildflower walk
the
path
veers
off
through winter
(haiga)
Haiga: a few ducks for company the long way home
haiga: just where the sky
meets the sea —
laughing gulls
sere grasses …
summer threads
unraveling
in a moon garden
filled with night bloomers
we stroll away
a blue hour
your hand in mine
old love letters
your words
in light and shadow
photo by Frank Russell
chilly morning
my spring coat
stays packed
(haiga)
my father?s country–
each year he goes home
for the last time
(haiga)
fall migration …
many wings beat
against a moon drum
(haiga)
when caught
how to release
resentment?
as wind disperses water
as water erodes stone
(haiga)
glassy lake
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
(haiga)
bone density …
the broken stems
of sunflowers
beachcombing the detritus of us
water and stone
how we shape
each other
mouth of the river
an ever-changing story
told to the sea
(haiga)
the ocean
was in a rage last night
but today
these peace offerings
of blue mussels and kelp
(tanka/haiga)
hospice pond
a ripple settles
into stillness
redwood time . . .
the steady journey
from earth to sky
(haiga)
mountain meadow
ten thousand ways
to open to grace
(haiga)
plain brown bulb
the mystery
of becoming
(haiga)
northern lights
the blur of scarves
as skaters pass
(haiga)
self storage
the bits we keep
to ourselves
(haiga)
mossy log
a ruffled grouse drums
up the dawn
(haiga)
living will
the kids know all I need
in the end
sunlight on my face
and ice cream every day
(haiga)
beach umbrella
all day the orbit
of its shadow
(haiga)
dawn
your body?s outline
follow?s mine
(haiga)
fox tracks …
who was I before
I was tamed?
(haiga)
tanka
gloomy morning
a windchime paddle loses
its momentum
we long for life as it was
and the return to normal
(tanka with painting)
downtime the conflict rages
(haiga)
Beyond fault lines
and the unbearable weight
of the body
the wish for wings
to carry us home …
(tanka image)
dawn meditation
the valley surrenders
its mist
(haiga)
in the beginning cherry blossoms (haiga)
the measure
of a life
the flower
that blooms
for a single day
(haiga)
morning birdsong
so many small
reunions
(haiga)
thunder clap ravens fly at the dream?s collapse
(haiga)
berry-picking
even our shadows
turn blue
(haiga)
bright green needles
on the fire-scarred redwood
what we?ve each survived
(haiga)
point A
to point B …
is life
ever really
that simple
(haiga)
tall grass
carries the scent of the sea
fishing memories
from my childhood
the father I lost
(haiga)
between the pages
of a half-price
guidebook —
the colors
of someone’s autumn
(haiga)
my easel stands
neglected in the corner
still flecked
with bright colors of a world
I no longer recognize
(haiga)
scattered thoughts
going where the wind
takes me
(haiga)
telling stories of long ago the sound of rain (haiga)
babushka dolls
carrying my ancestors
inside of me
(haiga)
A smudge
of blackbirds swirling
into evening . . .
how fluid the shape
of this sorrow
(haiga)
home from work
the intimacy
and loneliness
of a shared wall
(haiga)
unheeded love songs freeze between worlds
(haiga)
the ups and downs
of a September day
goldfinches
(haiga)
riptide / we won’t go back
(haiga/formatted haiku)
the music of the spheres
in my dreams I know the words
(haiga)
Mining for gold at dawn kalinga sagar
(haiga)
deep river
the places
that call us home
(haiga)
fern spores
the ellipsis after
your goodbye
(haiga)
prairie gale
the groan of a silo
holding steady
(haiga)
to love this body
just as it is
twisted shore pines
(haiga)
indian summer
holding on
and letting go
(haiga)
the struggle
to keep going
summer heat
(haiga)
finding a place to rest the scent of autumn (haiga)
evening walk—
empty street
but for the sun
(haiga)
one hiker
out of millions
a pebble loosens
(haiku by Agnes Eva Savich, art by Linda Miles)
the blue hour
you slipped away
without a sound
(haiga)
spring
hanging her best silks
in the wind
(haiga)
migration
the changing course
of my life
(haiga)
deep
in the blossoming
one honeybee
(haiga)
sun-striped path
the forest’s outbreath
fills our lungs
(haiga)
the odd angles of dissent bamboo grove
(haiga)
bridging
my two worlds
a breath
(haiga)
solar eclipse
the time we choose
to look away
(haiga)
the shape of a life
one sparkling wave
returns to the sea
(haiga)
indigo sky
one flies
over center field
(haiga)
refugee train
small hands starfished
against the glass
(haiga)