5 Haiku
forest berries grow
by the cool rushing creek
scent of irises
summer day
waning gibbous moon
and apple scent
what we are losing
the sea around us
bleaching the coral
from the black graphite
you drew up water
for the seashell
the sixth lunar month
swathed in zinnia blossoms
my sister’s grave
Wildfires
black spruce trees
the ancient boreal forests
regrowing back as aspen
I remember the red sun
the hut on the mountain
