Friday, June 23, 2017

Tanka Prose

Poor inchworm. Back and forth across the tabletop. Down a table leg.  Halfway, it turns and climbs up again. Crosses the top once more to another leg.

                                                    there was a time
                                                    when I had to choose
                                                    love or adventure
                                                           was it luck or wisdom
                                                           that my choice gave me both?

The little worm takes a leap with its invisible thread, nearly reaching the bottom. Continues on, finally reaching the ground, crawls away. I lose sight of it when it disappears in a crack.

                                                   bird calls and wind
                                                   the shuffling of leaves 
                                                   the shuffling of time
                                                           what I did and did not do
                                                            and where I’ll be tomorrow  

Haibun Today, Tanka Prose,
March 2017

Saturday, June 10, 2017


setting out plants
I take a chance this year
with something untried–
at my age even this
is an adventure


peonies bloom again
after trying to kill them
in ignorance;
what else have I lost
because of my not knowing?

Presence, autumn 2016
Ribbons, spring 2017