This one’s a senryu.
We imagine we understand eternity
but haven’t a clue
about old age
This one’s a senryu.
We imagine we understand eternity
but haven’t a clue
about old age
Sparrows in the lilac
argue loudly
about the weather
Under a gray sky
buds swell on the cherry tree
anticipation
Through the thermals
we spy each other,
the vultures and I
“It’s a brutal world,”
says the hawk, who sees himself
as a realist.
“Everywhere I go, I see ruin,
hostility, violence.”
He shifts from one foot
to the other, spreads
his wide wings.
“I think this dove I’m eating
would have agreed.”