Haiku – Page 2 – Seven Hundred Jisei

Haiku #696

696.

If I might walk then
Sometimes tentatively, see,
Your eggshells beneath.

695.

Everyone’s living
In dramas we did not make.
I choose the blank page.

693.

Ostensibly, I
Am walking my dog, but my
Dog is walking me.

692.

January fog.
A canine is constantly
Pacing long-lawn frost.

691.

Louis Felipe,
Merlot Lot 18, I drank
The Wines of Chile.

690.

Even the muddiest
Up-dug, bramble-bogged garden
Is made pure by frost.

689.

Sunsets never set;
It’s just perspective. Sunrise,
You are just the same.

688.

Supermarket queue;
My two is still not your two.
Endless ego spills.

687.

You are the one page
In the one great book I wish
I had co-written.

686.

We end beginnings,
And start with women singing.
Suddenly, brimming.