Shadowed silence
During the first days of the pandemic, the world grew silent as if in chock. Even the wind faded and the water surface mirrored the pale whiteness of the overcast […]
Tag Archives: haiku
Reeds
Days have followed days during the pandemic but during the holidays we at least never signed into work. Instead we cleared some space in our cluttered home. Space that we […]
Estranged from the subway
It’s been eleven weeks since last I took the subway, dived into the underground, and shared a common space with other travelers. I have not been seated next to strangers […]
Tying the knots
My mother is gone. She actually started to leave long before we realized the depth of her dementia, but when summer was just beginning, she left us for good. Now, […]
Room at the attic
Summers of my childhood were sometimes spent in the big countryside manor of my grandparents. Uncles and aunts, cousins and rooms more than we could count. Days followed days in […]
