Haiku

Two wooden boxes.
These ashes were once our cats.
Rainy summer night. - Jeff Barnes

Harvest

Green tendrils rise from the ground, wrap themselves around my legs.

Stone Buddhas sit oblivious as watermelons fly like zeppelins strafing the garden.

Their seeds pierce

my flesh

like bullets.

Falling,

I see sunflowers

tower above me.

Their golden-lashed eyes

watch helplessly as my blood permeates the soil, nourishing the next crop. -- Jeff Barnes