his haiku

 

he shapes juniperus
brevifolia with his fingertips;
eyes closed…he tunes its canopy
pinch…pinch…thin skin needle sharp
to Zen blaze intimation

he shaves limewood…tilia
soft curls peel beneath
his pocket knife
thin…thin to matchsticks
scatter scryed by fingerfuls
on a crimson scarf
stolen…one day…in a war

he writes…fountain pen
black ink on papyrus…

grounded mourning dove;
footprints chaos the white sand
I raked…mounded smooth

 

Bonnie Marshall

Drawing by Andrew Wyeth