Tanka 2

One sparrow calling
Sam peabody peabody
Across the silence
Fading of the night
Moon slips past the horizon

Haiku 4.26

crows on a wire

sitting a wingspan apart

social distancing

when I weep at night

Its never the onions

sliced for supper

still lingering on my hands

long after the dishes are dried,

stacked in neat rows

behind a closed door.


You smell of crisp frosted air

and pine needles swept from the dirt path

when the wind rushes past.


I layer pepper, salt, spices

hoping to add enough flavor

to the meat on my plate.



Inspired by http://thefragrancewriter.com/2020/04/05/journey-man/