Tanka by Jeanne Emrich

gently I shake

last night's storm

from the peony--

we smile at one another

across the garden

(LYNX, 1997)

so late in life

this gift of yours

unstrung beads

of November rain

on purple kale

(Tanka Splendor, 1997)

dry grasses

etch a faint calligraphy

in drifted snow--

a letter from you

in your frail hand

(Tanka Splendor, 1998)

one last sliver of light

falls across the frozen pond--

I walk home at twilight

remembering you and

how I loved your shadows

(Tanka Splendor, 1998)

why do I feel

so empty tonight?

moonlight streams in

at every window

and you await me

(Tanka Splendor, 1999)

am I to end as dust?

very well, let me float

in the morning sunlight

set me aswirl

with your laughter

(American Tanka, Spring, 2000)

don't take me

into your old age

with you, mother--

even the waning moon

keeps its distance

(The Tanka Anthology, 2003)

we walked the beach

mother and daughter--

how I wish

it was you who found

that perfect sand dollar

(Tanka Splendor, 1999)