Crocus mourns
Grey billows cast white shrouds
Marmot is no seer

A view from my living room, yesterday at half past three

snow falls on bamboo
tiger-gusts will cut it down
I sip hot chocolate

A tremendously brief haiku in the English language borrowing elements of Latin grammar and describing a fact of which I am moderately certain

am

still pond stirs
pebble wrinkles nod-off
inhale

flicker
geometric pegs snap into place
I settle back to sleep

November Niner Seven Fower Delta Lima

bide
engines zoom
lift

Coffee at 7th & Indiana, facing east

river of faces
none like each other, nor mine
they are family

in tiny cloisters
shutting out the world around
words, voices, nothing

intentions are clear
he stumbles over thick words
she secretly hopes

always in a rush
sublime life passes her by
was it all worth it?

Patois seduction
I eaves-drop: whispers, glances
I wish I spoke French