Verses in Search of Haiku
Leaves whisper as water,dapple slender stone paths;
late spring afternoon.
Even oak trees lean west,
monkey grass kisses the ground.
Late spring afternoon.
Canyon clouds slowly
scuttle across the sky.
Late spring afternoon.
Yelllow trumpets nod near
heavy wooden chairs.
Late spring afternoon.
This pocket journal
couched upon my lap.
Late spring afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment