(Landscape, England, by the author below)

Answering echo-

One heart calls to another

A plucked string vibrates

And the tanka poetry

Kisses the roof of heaven!

The human psyche

Waits like a garden spider

A delicate web

Weaving a catechism–

A mystical orb of life!

Thin, silken breezes

Float upon a green-fabric

Of spring—pale season.

Scent of lilies, myrtle, plum

Arouse bees from slumber

I wander the fields

Snow covers the barren soil

Sharp wind plays pan pipes

A murder of crows huddle

Black laughing fruit hang from limbs

Mist drifts in waves

Ribbon-ing maple branches

The rising of moon

Make Egrets shimmer silver-

Gauzy ghosts of nothingness.

Like the lithe bowing

Of a red maple sapling

My heart turns to you,

Yearns for those nights long ago

When pale skin challenged the moon.

The full moon above
Floats on blackened velvet seas,
Poet’s perfection!
But who does not yearn for…