Zen Haiku

Poem 1205

Laurel in the mirror
the many combs through
her rain soaked hair.

Lounge room
in the mirror
our crowded Sunday ironing.

In the mirror
your hair nuzzled
by the moon and I.

Then, come afternoon
mirrors on the dam
sprinkled with geese.

Under the green table lamp
my Friday nights’
games of patience.

Red silk kimono
decoding her moves
he smiles.

Train window–
suddenly so close
a red silk kimono.

Red silk kimono,
she steps slowly over
the puddles shimmer.

With claws locked on bark
my stance is proud beyond kings
I hawk, primal made.

Sculptor’s nude
polishing her finger
it suddenly breaks.