siren

in the bare sycamores
evening sun

January dawn

a ladder rattling
atop a van

56 years later
with heron legs

going down with the sun
snow man

a dish
for the neighbors’ TV

the sink returns
my gaze

a dog-walker’s
puffs of breath

some leftover darkness
in my mug

to the mountain
its hiking stick

between the strips
of moonlight

halfway up the mountain
beginning to fade

[haibun]
teethmarks
on the trail sign…
my last sip of tea