H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T
John W Sexton

pines on the far hill
holding the distance
in place



months of rain
and a trembling face  



dank page
a dust-mite
on the word persimmon





clouded night
one darkness the trees
another the road



sideboard daffodils mouth their silent trumpets



fingering ruined camellias
where the cat has pissed



one breath
on the dandelion clock                     
I set my garden



cold April
an early bee
at the catkins



I cackle back
a crow
turns white in the sunlight



the birch green in leaf-light
three magpies rise
at a slammed door



two gravel lorries pass
a pony grazes
tail risen in the wind



midnight garden
the still lawn under circles
of torchlight



from the porch-lit yard
he measures his shadow
against the trees




Ginyu (Japan): fingering ruined camellias, one breath and I cackle back

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