Station 401: Haiku Collection 71

Cold breath, frozen air
Waving fur, dull tasteless sky
Howling gale, grey gaze

The rush of droplets
They leap, they spring, they gather
Swift, but no purpose

The crackling sun
Bowing beneath, giving way
Relieved of its gaze

Contribute to the Discussion

Discover more from Eighteenth Station

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading

search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close