__From my scribble book of 11-15-15.

the mind steeps
as does this well aged cider
bubbles rise

__The victims are the Hallowed. The sufferers  and their families are the takers of all such terror_ each a giver of life, and an emblem for whom we must all strive; strongly we seek worldly goodness.  _m


Dry gasp,
this choke of care;
our wrenching tears to the
victims of that primitive rage.
Hallowed.

Hidden thoughts. _m

a final stone
on this forest wall
brown ferns

       And / Or

blooms climb 
to this pyramid's  peak
the first stone
 

A haibun written this spring.

__ This evening's stroll at pond side with our walking sticks at hand; we speak in silent glances. Our nodding heads point to swans on the far side, and our smiles find a Great Blue, slowly wading into this watery sunset. Eyes point to an otter leading its swim path wake, and an owl that awaits the moonrise. A raccoon looking our way, tilts its head.

infants rise
within natures time
eyes value