haiku 41-45
Every evening
My childhood's scent on the breeze:
Night-blooming jasmine.
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Reeds rattle like bones
in the cold, salty wind that
blows in the marshes.
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In the graveyard the
dead sleep in neat rows under
pillows of cold stone.
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(Note: it's a sign of contentment when rabbits grind their teeth together. Some breeders call it "tooth purr".)
She likes being brushed:
The rabbit closes her eyes;
gently grinds her teeth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The returning geese
fly so low overhead that
I can see their feet.
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