Tanka

 

I went with my grandsons to a pumpkin farm . . .

 

 

 

mirror images

orange-blur of morning moon

frost on the pumpkins

the plumes of my grandsons' breath

as they run between the rows

 





Poetry by countryfog
Read 659 times
Written on 2013-10-27 at 15:02

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



Such lovely images here, countryfog. I like 'plumes' particularly, for producing a sense of rising smoke that I connect with bonfire nights in autumn. Applause!
2013-10-27


Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
My grandfather would grow pumpkins and while they were growing he would carve our names on, so that as they grew our names would elongate - this time of year always makes me think of that and your tanka brought a happy memory to the fore - I hope you had a great time.

Elle
2013-10-27