Sabine Miller
Women in the Attic
Somewhere Bertha Mason has been permitted her loamy imagination. She takes me by the hand: up the stairs, across the thermocline, down the dimly lit hallway to the cracked window. Together we watch improbable, daytime fireworks and combustible hydrangeas. Cougars cough up clouds while hawks roost in palm trees that have grown higher than skyscrapers. A drop of late afternoon tea plummets to earth.
in every corner
the spider’s children
ride the wind
About the Author

Sabine Miller has settled in Northern California after a pandemic tour of Arizona and Southern California. She writes songs, long poems, and short poems and combinations of all three. Her latest publication, Cairns, is available as an e-book at Half Day Moon Press.
Ooh, that haiku! Chilling in all the right ways.
Great haibun!
Thanks, Lynn!