Terry Wassall

Five Haiku


The thrum of traffic
The laboured breathing of an
Exhausted planet

Beneath man made seas
Blue-faced wraiths of the dead haunt
Diluvian worlds

No more bee loud glade
Barren flowers bow their heads
Shedding acid tears

Dried cracked creeks, bleached bones
Searing sun, shimmering heat
World of scavengers

Grey shape on snow thaw
The last polar bear’s eyes close
Waiting for winter.

Terry Wassall

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