ARRIVAL IN GENEVA
gray dawn
the gray smell of coal smoke
against gray buildings;
a stranger in a foreign city–
will it ever be home?
exploring the streets
the quick French of the natives
carried in the wind;
tentatively I ask
for directions
cold wind down my neck–
my string bag bulges
with groceries;
at the end of the first day
a lighter step to my walk
Modern English Tanka
