my unfinished work
littered with brittle browns
deepening shadows —
autumn’s reds and yellows
forsaking their offering
—
It was one year ago today I took the photograph that inspired my first tanka. It has been a less prolific season this year.
rough stones and moss
made slick by humid air
gather fallen leaves —
unsure footsteps and silence
grace summer’s indecision
—
I have typically posted tanka accompanied, and inspired, by an photograph. The image here is in my mind only, placed there on a late summer, quiet afternoon walk through the woods, unaccompanied by my camera or technology of any sort. I was disappointed at first not to be able to capture the moment…yet the words can do it justice, and the feat is unattainable in any event.
morning grasses
reach delicate wisps
through light and shadow —
trusting blooms to dew
unconcerned by tomorrow
delicate blossoms
gracing slender branches
breach new sky
presenting tenderness
into unknown morning
early morning
sun and shadows streak
thinning ice
clinging against hope
for a day’s reprieve
the shallow stream skirts
softened edges of a field —
emptiness surrounds
steady retreat on a path
through morning grey and stillness
the old sentry watches
over mist and heavy water
weathered by time yet
outlasting the faded road
no escape from loneliness
hundreds of winters
have loosened the barriers
between wind and warmth —
the coldest mornings leave gifts,
delicate intermingling
Rust and fallen snow
rest upon cracks and fissures
revealed by soft light,
confirmation of failure
weathered by time’s measured grace.
Not waiting for dark,
when merging is effortless,
involuntary —
clouds, hills, and fields reach across
quiet gaps and outstretched space.
(A Tanka poem. Photograph from a New England late afternoon, 8 December 2012)
bussokuseki 