Haiku
lightning through
fog—
the trace of a snail
on the ruined wall
the old
cemetery—
gravestones with wiped out names
shoulder to shoulder
deserted
house—
vines avoid the cross
printed on the wall
lightning in the night—
a white cherry tree brightens
the old ruined wall
broken bridge—
two white pigeons fly
against the wind
nettle flowers—
too many butterflies
near the cobweb
morning
glow—
three lilies-of-the valley
on the glass icon
silence
at noon—
butterfly wings
clasped on the clover
frozen lake—
among willow trees
crow's voices
cracks in the
ground—
an old handkerchief
in the widow's fist
bindweeds in the
wind—
on the dusty table
some old letters
quiet
sunset—
stairways of light
around the steeple
deserted
courtyard—
creeping bindweeds
grasp the well's wheel
full moon
on the white sugar bowl
a night butterfly
waves at sunset—
motionless windmills
under heavy clouds
leafless
poplars—
an old man climbing
the shadows
broken
bridge—
only the moonlight builds
a road between shores
abandoned
fields—
I quickly hide
a chrysanthemum
About
Cristina Moldoveanu, RO