A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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Contents Page: March, 2010, vol 6 no 1


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Giselle Maya

Marks on a Leaf

in the mailbox
a letter written on a leaf
read aloud
to one who smiles
with half closed eyes

Lovely Anise,

I saw you walking down the trail among summer grasses and was struck speechless by your stately gait, your grace and magical markings. I sat up in Monsieur Noverraz’s almond tree, the one he used to love to paint. I could not move.

I wanted to follow you, but knew you would not like it. Once in spring, I stealthily wove my way into your garden, approached when you were sniffing the sages that grow in a circle. You turned and walked away.

Honestly, I do not know how to make friends with you! You seem entirely self-contained, you do not even want to play! Grasshoppers and lizards catch your attention and birds and squirrels among the fallen walnuts. I must resign myself to observing you from afar.

On occasion I have come close to you, but then you are likely to turn into a hissing kettle and your growl is truly awesome. Now I will circumambulate your garden, an invisible admirer never far from you.

wet paws
the scent of catnip
makes me pause

with deep affection,
the tiger with white paws

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