like a newlywed standing by her wooden mailbox,
like a hungry spider lurking in its dewy net,
like a spring seed breathing under heavy snow,
with fixed attention I’ve been looking
at the end of the winding road
where He is supposed to emerge
winter twilight
between the pages of Job
a wooden cross
Haibun Today, 9:1, March 2015
A Room of My Own: Freedom and Mass Graves Tanka
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*Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words*, LV: "mass graves"
hosting Passover
the festival of freedom ...
a neighbor's TV
blasts news of the mass graves
f...