Ezhno
(A string of haiku/senryu with triolet at the end)
in the forest’s dusk
emerging with the shadows. . . .
he who hides from day
in the day’s cruel light
a proud village massacred. . .
one alone remains
Ezhno is his name -
the name means “solitary”. . . .
for the dead he lives
summoning spirits -
Ezhno pipes a melody. . . .
August’s moon-gold sky
a round sturgeon moon
drops low and big behind the trees. . . .
as if to listen
The flute’s wistful sound
echo of the wind’s soft moan. . . .
a blue gloaming
He sits upon a mossy stone,
a flute pressed to his lips and plays
the notes with melancholy tone.
He sits upon a mossy stone.
No human hears him; he’s alone.
No dear one there to meet his gaze,
he sits upon a mossy stone,
a flute pressed to his lips. . . and plays.
Written by Andrea Dietrich
for the Contest "Tell HIS Story"
Sponsored by ~Constance La France~A Rambling Poet~
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