Category: Tanka
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To my Aunt Cathy
Today, I came online to post that a couple of my poems were published, but this popped to the top of my library, a poem I posted four years ago. How it popped up, I will never know. Today, my Aunt Cathy is living her last breaths. We are all broken hearted. And it seems…
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My father’s spade
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his master
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Day 30
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a steady foot, our own light
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Day 29
walking through woods in bare moonlight – shade over shade, black within black – I see what cannot be seen in day ask what can be seen of me
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Day 28: And the greatest of these
is love — which is not really fair to say, for the three intertwine when you sit here, ready, and build atop each other
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Day 27
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through long hours