wedding band
a broken promise
in the junk drawer
even now it slips
through my fingers
coroner's wagon
a murder of crows
watches him depart
all he ever said to me
was get off my lawn
first rain—
smells of wet cattle
and creosote
I pull on my boots
while the old dog sleeps
a century plant
begins to bloom
I count the years
of watching and waiting
when will my time come?
my sweet Natasha
I saw her in a highway dream
and found her there
curled as in a peaceful sleep
on the double yellow line
John Stone is a working musician in northern California. After 22 years writing pop pap for record companies, he now lives in the trees, writes haiku, haibun, tanka, short fiction, and most gratefully, makes people dance. Some of his work can be found in Simply Haiku, Contemporary Haibun and Tiny Words. He recently received a Sakura Award in the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival.
John Stone is a working musician in northern California. After 22 years writing pop pap for record companies, he now lives in the trees, writes haiku, haibun, tanka, short fiction, and most gratefully, makes people dance. Some of his work can be found in Simply Haiku, Contemporary Haibun and Tiny Words. He recently received a Sakura Award in the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival.