Zen Haiku

Poem 5542

on our rooftops
up to the hills
a glaring moon-face

our taxi arrives …
her last sprinkle
to the goldfish

high moon …
their crispness tightening
in the apple skins

glass house
the push of tomatoes
out of time

moon shine
in all of its journeys
the time for geese

night winds
a little bit of the tree
a raven’s space

thaw loosens
the mountain snow …
cabin’s fireplace out of wood

sunrise
composing colours
a ewe squeezes her lamb out

passing your house
in shadows
the door key under that red pot

the frost drips…
my mind on the lark
singing to dawn