Tagged: poem 91
Another Aftermath
Haibun Bird songs, as I awake ahead of the alarm Headache: fruit of the prior day’s tension— or that extra glass of Burgundy Or another gift from that beloved team teacher I work through...
An Early Present
Haibun We plant petunias at Dad’s grave. I hoe out holes in front of the headstone. Frankie places the plants in and covers their roots with dirt. We plant two rows — three to...
