Thanksgiving sky

the trees’ white skeletons
when I close my eyes

witch hazel

sun shriveling
in effigy

gall

When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

moonrise

shadows open
their wings

sapless trees

I’m already passing
that distant lake

deserted trail

dead leaves rising up
to dance

wilderness peak

checking my phone
for a signal

leaves falling

through low sun
a yellow-shafted flicker

bare sandstone

in my earliest memories
you were granite

returning

to my upstairs bedroom
my own body heat

autumn pond

a bottomless blue
six inches deep

Mountain stream: haiku or tanka?

mountain stream talking to myself