Haibun - Held In The Stone

Held In The Stone

I stroll across the park as the sun dips
into the pond, spreading a layer of gold
leaf.

Held in the stone of a granite bench, the
warmth of the sun remains - final traces
of day.

night coolness-
the rustle of cobalt
in a leafy sky

Haibun - Becoming

Becoming

The haiku master Basho said,
"Learn of the pine by becoming the pine.
.Learn of the bamboo by becoming the bamboo."

A master of becoming sits beside me. I wonder
what he learned from all he has been.

becoming
the leaf, the twig...
a chameleon

Haibun - Jazz

Jazz

He kisses me out of the blue
moonlight into the smoky dark
club until after awhile I feel us
making music...

sax player
before the tonic accent
a swig of gin

Haibun - Another Spring

Another Spring

i find myself the lone one in alone and
lonely in the place we used to love the
sound of

each other's echoes
finishing
each other's echoes

Haibun - Blue Spring Oolong

Blue Spring Oolong

The tea has travelled from the Fujian province of winding
mountain streams with gentle breezes at 3000 feet. The
leaves, slightly fermented, are shaped by hand with liquorice
sugar into pebbles resembling unpolished lapis lazuli. As the
oolong steeps, the deepening amber emits a delicate aroma,
spreading a light, unexpected sweetness onto the tongue.

Spring
sky blue sky
through the leaves

Haibun - A Sunday Almost Night

A Sunday Almost Night

Down by the jetty I sit as the sun dips
into the distant ocean, crossing the nearly
straight line between sea and sky.

It vanishes slowly, leaving rays of light
in peach and rose, soaked up by cotton
clouds.

As they pass above me, hastened by a
cool wind, I head back home, the sand
still warm beneath my bare feet.

moonless night -
the sky becomes
day's shadow

Haibun - Drift

Drift

Through the depths of a dream, I can
feel your touch...rising, roused, we glide
in a featherbed, half-awake, half-asleep.

scented sheets -
white lilac covered by
the darkness of snow

Held by you, on some wading pond,
I float and arc - letting myself fly as
bow, arrow and target become one.

The archer hits the mark.

rings through rings --
the glow of a Romeo
y Julieta