I try to see the ghost of yesterday. She doesn’t come. Not for me, anyway.
The window gives me a watercolour view of the garden, and yet the colours are missing, stolen. The trees are shadows in the grey. They stand stark and bare, unmoving. From somewhere water drips.
I turn back to my coffee. The steam warms my face.
losing you –
this summer heat
Written for Carpe Diem #1469 Finding The Path
tiny tickle –
a dandelion seed
on my nose
Written for Carpe Diem #1468 fragile
all the blue
my little lake
Written for Carpe Diem #1467 bench in the park
from the settled mist
the monk returns
Written for Carpe Diem #1466 Contemplation
through the aquarium glass
a blue door opens
Written for Carpe Diem #1465 The Blue Door
the wind getting lost
in the lushness of green leaves
our childhood meadow
Written for Carpe Diem #1464 wind in the verdure (aoarashi)
we fall asleep
the old bush warbler
Written for Carpe Diem #1463 old bush warbler (oiuguisu)
ducks making fading shapes
out of pond water
Hi guys, I’ve been out of action for the past few days. I have a mild case of pneumonia. Nothing too serious, doc says bed rest and antibiotics should do it, but it’s holding my inspiration hostage. I hope to get back to the writing soon.