Forest Sun Haikus

Softly she whispers,

“I breathe out the magic sun”

Song of Deborah. 

She tilts her tears back

Moon glow glides her silhouette

Diana’s Tango. 

Dancing sun in trees

Lures me into skirts and snares

Hearts chiseled in bark. 

Sit and be silent

The trees will say what needs said

The trees do not speak. 

Sun sparkled temple

Magic twig in her pocket

Old witch in a pew. 

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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