Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form Poetry
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Autumn 2006, vol 4 no 3


Janet Lynn Davis

a wasp
inhabits the feeder
I start to refill—
my days, so full
with plans I must change


tomorrow, always
tomorrow. . .
these mountains of clutter
have begun giving birth


a pallid
middle-aged woman
finds herself
with tanka


like the night-blooming
in desert darkness
for one moment
will I have my day?


I think of buying
a lily
this week,
my deluded body
clinging to spring


I lop the old hibiscus
down to its base;
what need I must have
to challenge my faith


I avert my eyes
in the clinic corridor—
there, the same doctor
who years earlier
misdiagnosed me, twice


trodden blossom
reawakened through illness—
to make up for the time
she lost while well


the thick froth
of buttercups
    just beyond
       the emptiness
       of a retention pond


before I rise
a slow rain on the patio. . .
I linger
longer than usual
in the warm shower


in love
over vegetable curry
I can’t stop staring. . .
this brown rice
isn’t one bit mushy


she collects
rocks, shells, quarters, pennies
. . . also seeds
for her small brother,
to teach him about life


her newborn face
smaller than your open hand;
this daughter
has no idea yet
how safe she is


I rarely gaze
at the moon,
one thing in my life
I know
will never change


     how I’d love to write
          about you
     but that would be so trite
so, go, fly away


Janet Lynn Davis's passion for the written word emerged during her childhood and later worked its way into her college studies and career. She has focused on poetry only in recent years, however, and "met" tanka in summer 2005. Her free verse and tanka can be found here and there on the Internet and in print.