The Heron´s Nest
a haikai journal ... 

September morning
again my breath rises
to an open sky

approaching gale
the beach grass sweeps circles
deeper in the dune

after the hurricane
         most of the moon
                               . . . gone

night of stars
the rhythm of my boat
across the swells

yellow moon–
the smell of woodsmoke
on the wind

that glittering point
in the distant evergreen
a dewdrop

hurricane path
a layer of green covers
early autumn leaves

such sharp edges–
the few red leaves on a branch
of eucalyptus

collected fog
the raveled fringe
of her scarf