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