Tide Cloth

The sea swallowed the sky
and drowned the stars in salt
but kept the blue to cover the sand
in a blanket cape
a tablecloth over your eyes

pulled away              
by                     the tide receding

Whispers (Haiku Series)

Willow Whispers

on your face I’d be
dancing fingers of willow
caress of a breeze

~~~

Storm Whispers

whispering in morse
story told by stormy nights
ivy against glass

~~~

Seashell Whispers

tales for hermit crabs
seashells and minuscule stones
whispering of sun

~~~

Root Whispers

she touched tree stumps
turned them over in her mind
what will old roots tell?

 

 

 

tiger and bowstring

He tenses his muscles and turns his body into a longbow,
a bowstring woven of music and playful prancing
– then instead of an arrow a tiger flies forth
(and the tiger is carved from the lithe heartwood still beating one-TWO-three-pause)

He is a tiger sleeping in a library,
in semi-sleeptalk dutifully teaching little birds to hunt for words,
while longing for the moment to escape the grey walls with the jungle-green bow he keeps hidden under his chair
(and only at night he hunts words and songs for his own enjoyment, one-TWO-three-pounce)

He builds himself a seaside castle from tiger-striped driftwood,
barefoot he fights emerald waves and throws sand dollar shaped pebbles into tidal pool wishing wells,
in hazy summer-lands alive with the whirring energy of a bowstring sending arrows flying into battle
(and in the shade of a bottle gourd planting he turns salt-water soaked book pages, one-TWO-three-breathe)