Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Persimmons gladden the sky

There's something about trees in winter.  Leafless.  Vulnerable.  Raw beauty.  And yet, and yet, here are winter persimmons for the picking.  And for the birds.  Persimmon bread & cookies.  An haiku unfolds in the highest branches.  

1 comment:

  1. Not far away, by the seat next to me, a door disturbs the place where an opening ought to be. I do not trap the feeling so much as marks, strung into a net with the hinge.