Cloudless sky

cloudless sky—

I capture my shadow

in a photo,

placing hand on hip

to show some attitude

—Atlas Poetica, 22, Summer 2015

Tanka Prose

The Breezeway

rest home residents

sedate in their wheelchairs

… as I pass by,

that age-old feeling

of being the odd one out

When the weather is decent enough, patients (both short-term and long-term), as well as family members, caretakers, and miscellaneous workers on break, line both sides of the covered walkway leading to the main entrance of the facility. We often join them there. Swirls of air from the overhead fan graze our faces.

laundry's lost

as often as names

are forgotten …

today my mother

calls me her sister

A magnolia tree, its base wide and its spire reaching well above the rooftop of the adjacent building, usually captures her attention—and mine too. But right now, and for the past week or so, she appears to be particularly fascinated by a certain row of windows on the topmost story. With a voice that more than anything is gentle and hopeful, the one who decades ago carried me into the world advises, "Maybe you'll want to move here, on the third floor."

Within a few seconds, I hear the half-whisper of a woman seated across from me, as if she could read my mind. "It's the view," she offers. I simply nod. 

_______________

Pleased to tie for third place in the recent Mandy's Pages Where the Tanka Prose Grows 2015 challenge! 

Note: A slight edit made in the first tanka—"walk" replaced with "pass," the word I used in my original draft. 

The one time

the one time
my father saw his father

       ... from afar
too hard to decipher

the character lines

—A Hundred Gourds, 4:4, Sept. 2015

Announcement: Tanka Prose Contest Reminder

Tanka Society of America Tanka Prose Contest
A 15th-Anniversary Special Event 

Deadline: October 31

Fees: None

Prize: Free 2016 TSA membership to first-place winner

Submission Guidelines: See the website

Open to members and nonmembers alike. 

The entries have been streaming in: thanks!   JLD

Sawed-off moon

sawed-off moon
or remnant of cloud …
pondering
the alternatives
I veer off the road

—GUSTS, Autumn 2013

My mother

my mother

barely converses

……the tangle

of bougainvillea 

has spread to her mind

—Ribbons, Winter 2014

My poor mother now, a fading blossom in need of special care.