anywhere shall to,
when there is, nonetheless, no
wind upon a dune,
we shift as nomads
too aware a one-eyed dog,
unsheath’d scimitars,
barter, for a bell,
a day’s oasean breath
ahead lather’d steeds
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ayaladn 
You finally nailed me with the last stanza. Thanks again for the comment this morning. Coming from to say something like thatI take very seriously.>KB
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A salver for a balm, or a length of silk, in the royal tent.
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Is this, the three haiku, a particular structure of verse? I like the image of the nomadic shifts. nice
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Dear Glyn, it is now…and perhaps adaptable to five, seven, seventeen;
if it hasn’t been, let’s dub it ‘thraiku’… and, Thank you.
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The ‘thriaku’ will your legacy! I’ll have a bash at one in the New Year. All the best
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At its best into your hands, to make it glow
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i like the old-time feel of this — romance
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Yes, there is a scroll among the genealogies,
that I have read…without the edits
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Beautiful naturepoetry
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i riktning mot
tretal apelsin,
ert barnsten…
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nmice haiku: genial.
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Kyl olen ar du snall…
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Perfect swedish!
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ah there you are
withheld and shifted
you are a case of stuff I almost never get but never mind
in fact I like not getting it
but not that kind of not getting it
but getting something without getting
and getting addicted and not minding it
in the least in fact I prefer it – something to look forward to,
always something to look forward to
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well, the porters
ran off misguided,
but there, the tents are stuffed & almost overflowing, too dear a veil…
and walk this way, forgetful, if
you know the way, the knot letting go,
and lead us somewhere, where we’re going,
the signposts & detours, do not mind much those,
as the least, to which we refer to –
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