Sunday, August 25, 2013

Still More Twitter Tanka

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

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 
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

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