April – week 1

cold April wind —

like icy raindrops

the blackbird’s

song notes



so many words

swallowed with my tears…

perhaps you’ll listen

now that night’s cold shoulder

glistens with birdsong


scratched into

the whiteboard sky

the crow’s caw


every dusk different

every dusk the same…

a blackbird

high in the blue-green firs

I love you on your lips


my younger brother

asks to play chess —

the chaffinch’s wings


nothing’s black and white

in this game of words

She takes my queen

and leaves me



April showers…

I remember how many times

I watched Bambi


looking back

through banded light and shade…

with sable-soft strokes

the roe deer of a memory

brushed into the firs


This entry was posted in haiku, micropoetry, pentastich, tanka and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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