Tanka by Katie Smith
A crystal morning:
each tree a thousand green shards
still for a moment
like a shattered emerald
suspended in the cold air.
Mist has collected
on the pale gold water's rim
since I fell asleep.
The river has its own life
outside in the cold night time.
A Japanese pear
wrapped in white tissue paper
on a market stall.
All the beauty in the world
fits in the palm of my hand.
Early morning rain;
everything's a shade darker
after the shower.
My first breath outside the door
scents the woods near my first home.
The sky blossoms peach.
I make my way home slowly
after a day's work.
keeping pace with the sunset
I zip up against the chill.