Tanka Prose

                                                                                THE WALTZ     

 

He can’t dance, but there is one selection of music that stops his movements whenever the music channel plays it. He calls to me, “Come. Hurry. Listen to this.” And, we listen, sitting down, not dancing, except in our souls or wherever it is that we feel. I buy the CD, Dmitri Shostakovich’s Waltz No.2. I play it on occasion. And again we dance.

                                       swaying, twirling 

                                       in three-quarter-time

                                       in perfect step

                                       hearts together or apart

                                       the music plays on

Ribbons

                                                                  

Haiga

Failed Haiku

Haibun

THE RED DRESS

 

One holiday season I sew up a red dress to wear.  It is of fine wool, form fitting in the bodice with a flaring skirt that emphasizes my small waist.  The front neckline is high, but the back has a wide deep V, which requires that I wear a strapless bra.  Uncomfortable yes, but how else can I shine?  And I hope to shine that holiday season more than the lights on any Christmas tree.  

 

night of stars

the street lamp fizzles

and goes out

Presence

Haiku

 the New Year

on a clean, cold morning

the view is clear

Kukai, 2013