Still More Twitter Tanka

the first cold night
of August,
and the shirring of
crickets mourning
summer


I take
another bite
of the apple,
the gibbous moon
wanes a little


a morning
without sparrows
just the debris
of a long winter
tapping the window

the tips of 

the leaves of 

the chokecherry tree,

yellow in the 

summer rain

it’s another night

spent waiting for 

lightning

long past the season

for thunder

the bay breezes 

at cross currents with 

the wind off Bulle Rock;

so it is with

the affairs of men

orange needles

even pine trees

come at last

to the autumn

of their lives

if I wanted

to turn the world

upside down,

I’d be

a possum