Waka By Will: Here’re Haiku (Sorry… Senryu)

Does it matter, though?

The Kingfisher

The orange-breasted kingfisher keeps the wall in feathers.

Th’only rule (really) is: it simply has to feel like one.

How do you spell music?

You’ve become settled, fully integrated in, the mem’ries of another.

“So it’s you, then!”

Eighteen years and a day since they held hands – one twelve, one eight, one six, one twenty-five – and were bought, and were sold.

Extra time to sit ‘n write ‘n read.

I can read our time together.

The ray-d’yo emits sound.

Never you. No… Another for you?

I should (someday) write while on that journey.

In summer sunlight, Autumn gestated/beckoned.

Chaos to get into.

The tattered tethers of the known to leave behind.

The life, suspended, lives nonetheless inside, its mind in the past, its present; my mind in the present, my past.