A Tanka After Midnight

Of ink; of thought.

A Haibun For My Childhood Cat

Lazy were his steps; listless was his mind.

2021…

The earth; the moon.

The time that passed.

I write these words to end a tanka.

The dog’s bark ricochets in waves that break ‘gainst seagull’s calling.

Unkempt, the pharaoh’s hair, dark as the diskless sky, did dress her form.

Day-drinker ponders; rises; leaves the poem.

The cranes cry to the cov’ring cloud.

Do you hear?

Notebook completed; page un-blanked; th’caress of wind-soothed heat.

These pages three, in their loose ‘n blank-lined state, are, together, a haiku.

Poles of gold; bridled porcelain.

People-watching; people, watching me.