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Haikus

  • Scott F. Parker
  • May 14, 2021
  • 1 min read

How lucky

to be a runner—

or anything at all


//


When the snow melts

and underneath it

are footprints


//


A run

like a blossom

on the branch of an old tree


//


Just running

through the hurt of life

like a falling leaf


//


Cloud of breath

in the air—

cold body on the move


//


At the end

of the long trail to fulfillment—

another run

 
 
 

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