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Tanka Prose
Nights in White Satin * It’s not just the music, the minor key plaintive sound or the voice, the anguished cry of loneliness and longing,...
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oh, this wind! it sweeps me past my gate then spins me home spring clean-up- in the sweat of hard work a settling peace solid gray sky- fors...
2 comments:
sneezes in its hunt
as these tree-hogs stir the leaves
haze of natures dust
__As seasons restore and revolve; well seen! _m
Than you, Doug.
I always appreciate your haiku and comments
Adelaide
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