Tanka on Tuesday

Chilled northern wind gusts

STripping brown leaves from tree limbs

To blanket the grass

Gossamer milkweed seeds rise

Holding coat-tails of the wind

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/

taste of the ocean

as the rain ends
the earth offers up
its rich, loamy breath

mantled by darkness
I lay awake
breathing in its scent

as you lay beside me
bonelessly dreaming
and I wish for the ocean

the wind becomes the sound
of waves crashing, I taste
my tears salty as the sea.

Thanks, Phill, for the inspiration! To read his – click here

-5

the brilliant sunshine
is small comfort
with bitter winds
biting at my ankles
and too long til spring