Log in

No account? Create an account
Previous Entry Share Next Entry

A Harsh Winter Storm Turns to Light

A series of five tanka.

I am that wind which
Blows on a cold winter's night.
Fiercely, I clamor,
Snapping twigs, hurling shingles.
I leave ruin where I pass.

A tree leans in the
Gale but does not topple. It
Grows slanted, but whole.
I weep for gladness that this
Sapling has withstood the storm.

Folly to believe
That Light could gentle a wind.
I thought not to know,
Ever, the joy of your smile,
The wonder that is your love.

Lightning crackles hot;
Thunder shakes me to the bone.
A tree is aflame.
No flood of my tears can give
Back what I have just taken.

A windmill stands by
The sea, its blades spinning as
Wind washes through them.
It grinds grain for farmers' bread.
I owe no less of my life.