Tanka # 213

After I’m gone
think of me
as nothing more
than a whisper
traveling the wind

~

This morning
I kissed life again
and it filled my heart
with a longing
for something unnamable

~

From each wood hike
I gather bird songs
and frail scents
of fallen leaves and wildflowers
that I knit into poems

Tanka # 210

She didn’t feel
the frost on her skin
until it melted
under the warmth
of his fingertips

~

مشّطتُ شعرها على مهل
وقبّلت الندى على كتفيها
ثم جلست بينما استلقت هيَ
وأمسكتُ القلم وسال الشعر
حبرا على بشرتها

~

Things break,
people die,
friends and lovers
go into the night
and return no more.