Two In January

(C) R.L.K.

1.

Winter afternoon:
after a snow shower a
deep chill; nothing moves
but the shadow of a cloud
crossing the deserted street.

2.

Snow-covered maples
atop the hill; a few things
in a landscape,but
beautiful, just beautiful
on this fragile, fleeting day

Advent: Three Tanka

(C) R.L.K.

1.
Dawn in the foothills:
gold and blue, light and shadow
play upon the ground;
a small bird in a tall tree
sings its song into the wind.

2.

Fading afternoon:
ballet of light in the sky;
the old brook murmurs
an accompaniment as
I pause on the woodland path.

3.
Tonight a chilly
wind has cleared away the clouds
and now a thin old
moon, slightly tilted, shines a
little light upon the hills.

Passing Through

(C) R.L.K.

A dew-wet morning;
summer is gone and the cold
wind is full of leaves.
....

Streaks of bright yellow
on the willows by the brook --
a long way to spring.
....

After dark, after
a rainstorm, a hazy moon
drifts over the streets.

The Shape of an Afternoon

(C) R.L.K.

The mood is more than autumnal now; the day's
rain fizzles out, the wind chimes sound a faint
note. Alone on the porch, you consider how
softly the brown leaves have fallen and settled
on the gray stairs. You recall that once
this quiet hour would have marked the end
of a big day with many things done. But
that was then, and time, somehow, shrinks
as we get older. We don't know where it goes,
and now, what happens - rain fizzling, chimes
sounding, leaves falling - hardly happens at all.

What Is Where It Is

(C) R.L.K.

AUTUMNAL

there
on those distant hills
trees
rustling with reds,
yellows, greens -
and here
we stand
amazed at how huge the world is
and how it shines
in the silence
of the sun

JOURNEY

fallen leaves
flying
across the railroad tracks -
passing through,
just passing through

LATER

a long day
done --
now,
to just sit here
under the clouds
and nod
along with the willows
beside the pond

Daydrift

(C) R.L.K.

this morning our
world's a world in
half-shadow, a
world of soft sound

and leaf-flutter;
the lingering
smell of last night's
rain on wet grass

stirs memories,
and now and then
there's a brief tune
from the wind chimes

This Place, At Times

(C) R.L.K.

Dawn. In the garden,
the sunlight flings dew over
the young marigolds.
....

Afternoon shadows
struggle through garden walls, fall
across the roses.
....

All night long, the sound
of the rain softly falling
into the garden.