Tanka by Bette Wappner (b'oki)
As my daughter asks,
"Why do birds live everywhere?",
autumn robin sings--
echoing across the fields
perched upon a split-rail fence.
Fine sheets of snowflakes
slowly fall to touch the earth--
pure white linens,
pulled closer to hold the dreams
of being in your embrace.
From
falling waters have become
sculptures of ice--
must I wait till spring to melt
into your warm arms again?
From the cold darkness
a crocus bursts for sunshine--
the scent of purple,
brings me to my knees to touch
this brave blossom with my tears.
As you wave goodbye,
your silhouette is captured
in cherry blossoms--
a swirling breeze left sweetened
by petals kissed with our lips.