hours (contemporary haiku)

(C) R.L.K.

morning dew --
the softness
of a parting word
….
low clouds all afternoon --
alone in the town square
a wet sparrow
….
the willows at twilight --
old friends
sharing the silence
….
hazy moonlight --
in the distance
a lone boat on the lake

Solo Renga

(C) R.L.K.

Warm windy evening --
The streetlamps shine
among the maples.

Few and far between:
glistening raindrops.

The leaves shake,
stop,
then shake again.

A door opens;
someone goes through.

Far off, a train whistle --
the old dog on the porch
continues to doze.

Patches of shadow
on damp pavement.

It’s this world,
it’s a different world…
here.

Untitled, Perhaps?

(C) R.L.K.

Something like this, if it happens, can happen
when least expected, perhaps less than a week
after the funeral of a close friend. One day you notice
the window brightening early. You rise and look out
at the redbud trees in full bloom against
a sky blue beyond blue. There is no sound
but birdsound, and no need to wonder what comes next.