5.6 tanka

mist brushing my face
fog rolls along the river
your dark eyelashes
thickly beaded with droplets
each refracting the moon’s light

5.5 haiku sonnet

from two yards over
the lawnmower still buzzes
after the sunset

we watch bats swooping
their silent acrobatics
a tango at dusk

the cicadas sing
over our conversation
drowning out the words

I watch your tongue flick
gathering the amber drops
along the smooth rim

we sip tequila slowly
warmed more by heated glances

Haiku 5…4

the scent of your skin
combined with freshly cut grass
intoxicating

Not quite the noise, Janet! But related!

Tanka 5.3

bright dandelions
stretching their necks far above
the soft green grasses
tip their faces to follow
the path of the summer sun




building our first home – haiku

Oops. Tanka. But I don’t want to mess with the title and have it resend.

in the holly bush
outside my open window
two robins loudly
discuss the many details
of their first nest’s construction

4.30

pink cherry blossoms
dripping onto the wet grass
mimicking the rain

4.29

slender branches dip
towards the sodden green grass
laden with blossoms


4.28

muted morning light
thunder rumbling far away
rain taps on the roof

the candle flickers
casting your profile shadow
on the bedroom wall

Tanka on Tuesday 4.27.21

seventeen starlings
perched upon a single wire
just after the dawn
only yellow beaks showing
against the mottled greyness


the man in the moon 4.26

I try to believe
that your never uttered words
are the crescent moon

with negative space
closepacked with rocks and water
hidden, trapped inside

depths of the mantle
even though it is often
unaccessible

the smile of the man
in the moon is a cold one
lighting night pathways

but never bringing any
warmth to bask upon your skin


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