rooftop view

a dish
for the neighbors’ TV

dishes done

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

how unlooked-for
to be let go

an awful Christmas carol
stuck in my head

the darkness giving up
its sassafras

From time to time a flash of panic, as if I’ve forgotten something — but I can’t think what.

missing mountaintop
in the pit
of my stomach