On unsteady feet

he shuffles through the kitchen

preparing for work.

His eyes no longer shining.

I see the toll of labor,

body and mind,

overworked at the mills

where there is no rest.

It’s not worth it for that wage.

My love, please quit ... or get fired!

viscous moonlight

fresh milk poured over the land

nourishes the soul

softly iluminating

a heart's darkest corners

Green silk bathrobe,

Flutterd to the floor,

Discarded.

She had taught me how to eat

oysters without spilling a drop.

Alas, she taught more.

Like the feeling of growing

a p a r t

(I sometimes try combining a tanka and a haiku. Let me know if you think it worked!)

My mind

is a haunted house

but, it is mine.

Spare me your concern!

From ghosts we have much to learn.

That's why I keep the hearth lit,

invite them here with me to sit.

Never so frightening by firelight,

as when hidden in shadow by the night.

They each have stories to tell,

this I've learned very well.

What they wanted, in a word,

was quite simply to be heard.

And so, we live in harmony,

my ghastly friends and me.