Meandering Throughout the forest glen One chilly morn in early spring, I spied a wounded Carolina wren.
Fervid winds blew all night long— Insurgent tide Swamped riverside...
On leaves the words and syllables advanced; To music of the mind they rose and danced.
Parched, the thirsty soil cries out, Longing for relief from drought, Respite from the heat.
Red is the color of love? I say, No!
Without is sunshine new green, a warm gentle breeze— Dark clouds rage within
From here They look so close together, As though we could hop from one to the next...
Her legs impart their strength unto the cedars; Her arms instruct the honeybee to work...
Just imagine how fragile the rose would be without her thorns June 14, 2017 ~ Haiku Copyright © 2017 Linda Luna - All Rights Reserved Photo © 2014 Encore Enterprises
Like the feathered flower so the transient traveler into the wind