September 18, 2004
Morning
I wake and the sky
Is there, intact
The paper is white
The ink is black
My charmed life
Harms no one--
No wife, no son
Samuel Menashe
Spare, elegant. Extended haiku. Debatable, but seems regretful, in a comfortably resigned way. Vintage that-which-speaks-to-Michael.
Posted by doodles.Both beautiful.
Posted by Helen.It speaks to me of fall. Here in Maryland, fall comes next week, but it's a false fall. The trees are full of green leaves, and there is no crispness to the air. I'm reminded that there are places where fall has already arrived.
Posted by rakkity.Do you hear Grok Hill calling you?
Posted by michael.Posted by Michael at September 18, 2004 04:54 AM
Spare, elegant. Extended haiku. Debatable, but seems regretful, in a comfortably resigned way. Vintage that-which-speaks-to-Michael.
Posted by: doodlesat September 18, 2004 08:05 AMBoth beautiful.
Posted by: Helenat September 18, 2004 05:05 PMIt speaks to me of fall. Here in Maryland, fall comes next week, but it's a false fall. The trees are full of green leaves, and there is no crispness to the air. I'm reminded that there are places where fall has already arrived.
Posted by: rakkityat September 19, 2004 12:27 AMDo you hear Grok Hill calling you?
Posted by: michaelat September 19, 2004 07:15 AM