Southwest Washington Tanka
Kayla Wildman
the burnt railroad bridge
its ragged posts
slanting this way and that
a blue heron, shoulders hunched,
reflected in the quiet creek
* * *
little by little
leaf by leaf
spring is hiding
the stone-edged pool
in this small wood
* * *
oblivious
to the beauty
of daisies
the man with his mower
the shepherd with her sheep
* * *
a raggedy row
of old wooden posts
blocking a channel
in the river
the waterbirds vote yes
* * *
so gradually
the wild plum’s pink petals
drop
to float on the black water
of the shady wood’s pool
* * *
the old stone lion
stands proudly on his pedestal
on his majestic mane
and his fierce face
green moss growing
* * *
this way and that way
the butterfly –
how free, how simple
a life with no desire
beyond the next flower
its ragged posts
slanting this way and that
a blue heron, shoulders hunched,
reflected in the quiet creek
* * *
little by little
leaf by leaf
spring is hiding
the stone-edged pool
in this small wood
* * *
oblivious
to the beauty
of daisies
the man with his mower
the shepherd with her sheep
* * *
a raggedy row
of old wooden posts
blocking a channel
in the river
the waterbirds vote yes
* * *
so gradually
the wild plum’s pink petals
drop
to float on the black water
of the shady wood’s pool
* * *
the old stone lion
stands proudly on his pedestal
on his majestic mane
and his fierce face
green moss growing
* * *
this way and that way
the butterfly –
how free, how simple
a life with no desire
beyond the next flower