Tag: haiku

Many Years Later

~ SW Altair ~ 16 Comments

You still sit beside me as I rested after a long day, 
brushing my hair out of my face.

At dusk we go into the kitchen, 
you wash the lettuce and tell me about your day,
I laugh, forget things, and cut carrots into funny shapes.

And there are breadcrumbs and spilled wine on the tablecloth,
we still haven’t quite figured out how to be better at this,
but in the fading sunlight we are learning, God we are learning.

Before falling asleep
I look for your hand to touch mine.

Love is not difficult.
Not difficult at all.

Spring

~ SW Altair ~ 7 Comments

Even when we talk, we share
between us an infinite silence.
Beneath all the small words we give
each other, “how was your day?”
“look, the sun is setting.”
there is a silence as patient as
the warm soil of a spring garden
under which seeds of desire sleep.

Time of Evening

~ SW Altair ~ Leave a comment

After work she went to the store
to pick up coffee filters and diapers,
a carton of eggs and 
a bag of day-old raisin bread. 
The tomatoes were on sale that day,
At the canned goods aisle she forgot 
what she needed to get from there.
Was it cream of mushroom or baked beans?
She stood there quietly for a long while, 
trying to remember,
how did she end up here?

Back home there are dishes 
to be washed, trash to be taken out.
A small child crying.
A man who pretends not to hear.
And the sun is quietly disappearing
behind its own purple haze.

Two grocery bags, 
heavy as iron in her arms, 
and she was miles
and miles away from home.