My thanks to Marilyn Hazelton for the kind mention of The Language of Loss: Haiku & Tanka Conversations!
a rusted obelisk
in our garden tilts
earthward
the gash along its side
bleeding winter berries
part of it all
dead leaves
dance to the vibrations
of a wolf spider
searching for his mate . . .
I, too, am smitten
a woolly bear
wends it way through
yellowing grass
it only takes one small thing
to make me happy
I come
to this darkling forest
in search
of something
only the trees know
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