fringed polygala
Category: haiga
4/20
the way day-old leaves prepare for flight
not as bright as my phone
full moon
this longing
to hit the road
goldenrod
toadstools
let me put on
my rain hat
morning fog
woken by a text
about birds
where the oak
split off from its lost half open mouthed
hot hike
wearing my halo of poison
storm cellar
one last Mason jar
of white lightning
hot tub
laid bare in the woods a junkie’s pale face
sunset gold
under umbrellas a buzzing phone
ghost pipes
sweating through the longest day of the year