Deep emerald maple leaves blossom on my neighbor’s tree. The trunk—in shadow—looks almost black. It casts little shade over the aging, clubhouse-swing set that my neighbor worked so hard to erect.
The one no one has played on in so long.
empty backyard
leaves flutter in a passing
summer breeze
Photo by Yonan Farah
first published in Image Curve, January 24, 2019
for dVerse Poets OpenLinkNight #236 (pubtended by Grace)
With Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform (imagined by Anmol (HA))
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Categories: haikai, haiku community
Frank J. Tassone 
Very nice, Frank.
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It tells a story but there is a sense of a much bigger story with the neighbor. You did it in very few words, which isn’t easy.
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There’s much that went unsaid here I think.
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I like the thought of that swing so carefully made and now no longer used.
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There is such a story in that swing no longer used… and then that darkness make sense.
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There is always a sorrow in witnessing the laying down of childhood, as there is a joy in seeing the corresponding growing up. Thank, Bjorn! 🙂
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The silence of the clubhouse set, meant sadness to me. A contrast to the vibrant emerald green of the tree.
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This has quite an impact and your Haiku really tightly express the loss.
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I bet the tree is subtly larger, waiting for grandchildren maybe… that is how I think of the empty playhouse room in our house, beautifully written. The solidity of nature, the fluidity of passage.
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Thanks! 😀
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We can miss the saplings while still appreciating the growth of strong branches.
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