Robert Witmer

sleeping

against a wall

homeless shadows

—Robert Witmer

Up in Smoke, a haibun by Robert Witmer

 “For my days are consumed like smoke.”

 

A word collector. Every Sunday at dawn. He carries them away in a battered blue van. Just the man who collects them, not those who dispose. However they do. A furnace. A landfill. Each one a snowflake in a winter’s tale. The mystery of rhyme. Hymns like hoar-frost hanging on the trees. The breath of spirits dreams are made on. Puffs of smoke that rise like wisps of larks, whispering to the clouds, twisting to the stars. Blank verse.

 

abandoned school

chalk dust

the teacher’s words

Robert Witmer

a new bell

on an old bike

all downhill from here

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

wallpaper peeling potatoes for dinner alone

—Robert Witmer

thin shade

a sapling in moonlight

over her grave

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

falling leaves

that yellow carpet

in mother's room

—Robert Witmer

a

puzzle

missing

pieces

childhood 

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

a child's smile

sunshine

on a strawberry lollipop

—Robert Witmer

blank spaces

where memories were

moving van

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

snowflakes

melting against the window

old photographs

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

churchyard

an ancient yew

bent with snow

—Robert Witmer

a marked page

in a library book

dating app

—Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

dark romance

a taste of poetry

on a bookworm's lips

Robert Witmer

evening

unleavened bread

dipped in wine

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

dad’s chair

the worn cushion

beneath the cat

Robert Witmer

white nights

the ghost by the fire

asleep

Robert Witmer

babushka

memories wrapped in cabbage

baba's twinkling eyes

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

another possession

lost and found

yesterday

Robert Witmer

daylight fades . . .

a child's smile

lost in thought

Robert Witmer

waves darken

beneath the wind

the harmony of whales

Robert Witmer

angels arriving

on tiny parachutes

milkweed

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

the widow's plants

dying in the dark

windows

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

parallel lives

a wormhole

in the first apple

Robert Witmer

a bird

sipping rain

from a worn-out shoe

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

a stone bench

warm with sun

the cat my mother loved

Robert Witmer

self help

the clerk at the bookstore

points to the bottom shelf

Robert Witmer

lost in thought

a dandelion seed

in the wind

Robert Witmer

war graves

the silence

of forgetful flags

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

a child

shoehorned into a dream

the long walk home

Robert Witmer

a name

in a forgotten book

somewhere in the middle

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

an old wagon

heavy with hay

remembering the rain

Robert Witmer

sunrise

bursts into the room

the brass buddha winks

Robert Witmer

sundown

in a barren field

the scarecrow nods

Robert Witmer

shadows

under the stairs

milk for a one-eyed cat

Robert Witmer

a grand piano

hanging from a window

our last goodbye

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

spring wind

a bamboo hubbub

rubs against the sky

Robert Witmer

a small boat

asleep in the waves

the fisherman tracing stars

Robert Witmer

chiseled

from marble

the hand of a slave

Robert Witmer

behind her eyes

so many rooms

a breeze through rose curtains

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

frogspawn

black holes

in a rippled universe

Robert Witmer

tricycle tracks

all the branches

of the human tree

Robert Witmer

crime novel

an old parking ticket

marks the page

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

patches of snow

on a sunny street

childhood memories

Robert Witmer

Robert Witmer

alone

the little boy fills his basket

with snowballs

Robert Witmer