exiles child

Poems

A poll of seasons
wind whipped and weary
these ragged dreams

A bit late, but, hey, it’s still Friday somewhere!

Morning comes late
crisp as November sunlight
a mouse finds a window gap

Feeling minimal today.

Morning
cracks open
November

A senryu to start a new year of haiku.

Long ago, the same
half moon rising to the stars,
we went a-roving

Memphis, mid-October
These fields of cotton
So ghostly