Tanka

 small worries

the stuff of everyday

set aside

leaf buds forming

on every tree and bush

Modern English Tanka

Haiga

Failed Haiku

Tanka Prose

 BREAKFAST AT THE DINER

 

When the craving hits, there is no ignoring it. Be it a sweltering day in July or a sleety one in February, we are off to the diner for waffles. Toasted frozen waffles are a poor substitute. Half the pleasure in diner waffles is the diner. Mid-morning is the best time.  The early risers, the got-to get-to- work on timers, the quick coffee and donut-to-go goers have come and gone. We are the lingerers, the no planners, the no rush retirees. 

 

The diner, the third since the first one appeared on the site in 1929, is a long, low building and chrome shiny with dark red booths and counter stools.  Juke-boxes, although no longer working, display the songs of fifty years ago.  

 

We get a booth, and coffee is poured even before we settle in.  The order:  Belgium waffles, darkly toasted with bananas and walnuts, a side of bacon, extra crisp, and keep the coffee coming. 

 

daily pleasures

need not the deep pockets

of the rich

just an appetite to enjoy

all that’s on life’s menu   

 DRIFTING SANDS

Haiga

 HaikuKatha

Haiku

 early March

forcing spring

with forsythia

Acorn

Haiku

                                           

 Sunday drive

bumper tp bumper

through autumn

Bottle Rockets

Haiga

HaikuKatha

 crumbling farmhouse

the wind whistles a tune 

eons old

Wales Haiku

HAIBUN

How Am I Doing? 

 

I pass the hours with cooking, cleaning, shopping. On most days. I read, write, paint. On Most days. I go out for coffee, for lunch or dinner. On Most days. I fight this sadness that comes with living without him. On most days. 

 

a friend shows kindness

and sympathy

and hears my problems;

suddenly, I shed the tears

I didn’t know I was holding

Contemporary Haibun Online Dec. 2023 

Haiga

Haigaonline

Haiku

 morning companion

so much to say

the stream after rain

Treveni Haiku

Tanka Prose

Table for One  

 

A downy woodpecker zooms in to the suet cage hanging on the holly bush outside my window. He lands, positions himself upside down and  pecks away. He leaves. Returns. Does this several times. It’s breakfast. A few hours later, he’s back. Lunch. Sometimes a quick nosh in mid-afternoon. He returns in the early evening for supper.

 

We are on the same schedule.

 

fifty-seven years

of eating together

from snacks to feasts

we shared a love­—

my cooking, his eating

Cattails   

Haiku

 still afternoon

the sky, the pond

. . . the pond, the sky

Treveni

Haibun

TINSEL TOWN                                    

 

She is a devout Catholic, transplanted from a small town from somewhere in the mid-west to Los Angeles. Here is where she'll find excitement, glamour, stimulation. And… love.  

 

When I meet her, she is thirty-two years old. I am only eighteen, the youngest member of the church club. She isn't the only woman member over thirty, just the plainest, the quietest. She is the one who is most likely to remain forever unmarried. Forever a spinster. Forever an old maid.

 

After several months, I drop out of the club, but return a year later.

 

"We're chipping in for a bassinet for Irene's baby."

 

"Sure, I'll give," I say. "I didn't know she was married."

 

"She isn't."

 

 

tinsel town–

another glorious day                

before the rain

 

Cattails