A frozen drop of rain entwined in the fibers of life's weave where each moment of purity is unique for its place between background layers of colour.
Circling our current position any number of mock imitations of space conjugation as gods with galaxies at out feet.
Like a blank slate is for creation, fresh snow layered just enough to cover the bottom of the box we need to think outside of to find the image.
Don't kid yourself, one of these days this vehicle we call ourselves will meet the face of death and it's going to be red!
Imitating broken forest city spires dominate skylines.
For the familiarity of the coloured bridge to appease those far from home, BOB sits and waits for summer to come.
cloud haiku #602
silk drape caresses
the face of mountain rising
into soft evening
damn sam!
ReplyDeleteYou've written a shitload of haiku.