the day having
lost its smile
a child peers through
the sagging mesh
of a screen door

on a bluff where
     the wind refuses
to slow its pace
     the trees become the first
pendulums of winter

fading voices
at sunset
a pair of bicycles
deserted for the coolness
of a fountain

substituting leaves
for dropped coins
the 'o's in october
going by faster than
I can count them

the same argument
as yesterday
if only disagreements
could be resolved
through repetition

late afternoon
the construction project
drifting into the shadows
of a ladder
climbing the bricks

almost ready
for a good night's sleep
the crescent moon
wearing its nightcap
of clouds

like pairs of black oars
on a downed cottonwood
the reflections
of double-crested cormorants
resting in the slough

perhaps she's grown
used to them by now. . .
on a cool evening
the meteor streaking by
cassiopeia's chair

The Campaign Ads of Heroes and Villains

campaign ads airing
like a bad western
with no one wearing any hats
it's hard to tell the heroes
from the villains

Shall we just assume it's the latter?

(Fast Forward 2016: I wrote this tanka for a previous election year. I did not foresee Trump running for President and wearing a baseball cap.)