Zen Haiku

Poem 5264

rising from the sea
to see into it
the streaks of dawn

in winter fogs
the creep of tram lights
being born

autumn burning
the smoke of backyards
streets away

jazz music
my ageing hearing
its gentler arts

his snake tattoo
strong armed
by weight lifts

in the rabbit hunt
bloodied drops
from the snow line on

high moon
last train home
how my face looks looking out

high moon
the way the swan glides
up the river of light

high moon
she opens the chocolates
his gift for a lie

the high moon
and his whispers
loose in my hair