presence presents by Shirla White

now is the only tense

when you send a word my way,

each one a petal
drifting from a wishflower
held by someone
as distant as your flaws, echoing

she loves me

with the flicker of a firefly's eyes.



Shirla White, Saskatchewan, Canada

Haibun by Shirla White

A bird, both feet planted firmly on a telephone wire, stares into the lavender void that enfolds him. Every half-minute or so, he turns, as though orbiting a planet nestled under his wings, tugging on a string wrapped around the moon, lifting it up for the prairies. Tonight, he is Atlas' assistant, coaxing the cosmos to comply with tired nations.

moonrise
the sleeping bird
with raised wings



Shirla White, Saskatchewan, Canada