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 811 times
Written on 2013-10-27 at 15:02

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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
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