Four Haiku and a Tanka for the Hot Moon

Full moon at solstice,
an intersection of time,
which already fades.
*
Wine and moon drunk,
who am I to question this?
a rose is a rose.
*
Buttermilk clouds drape
the solstice moon in thin shrouds:
What am I to this?
*
We think we can know.
Language lulls us into sleep,
as if the moon cares.
*
Never a still point,
the moon dances the solstice.
Yet another space:
Doors open to us again,
for time signifies nothing.
(June 20, 2016)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.