When the pen takes control.

They bow their heads, avert their eyes

as over the fields and houses I fly

my master’s messages I deliver

down below they point and whisper

asking why from his castle high above

he sends a Raven, not a dove

Haiku

The sea appears calm,

wild feeding frenzy below

life and death drama

Tanka

Mother lies calmly

tolerant of the wild squeals

of her hungry young

I admire her expression,

her eyes closed, she gently snores

Haibun

I reach up to the heavy, wrought-iron latch and and pull down slowly. Resting my shoulder against the dark-timbered door it swings slowly inward. I stumble in and almost fall over the rounded footworn edge of the granite threshold. To my left a wooden settle where I flop, water dripping from my sodden clothing. A feeling of calm pervades after the wild rush of the storm raging outside.

polished brown benches,

tall curving, whitewashed columns

give sanctuary

Relecting the sun

the dappled shadows shimmer

through summer clad trees

and chart the lazy zephyr

in the sultry warming air