photo 211_zpsasq4hbkg.jpg
Of this week’s dozen words I have used: chill, rattle, cry, plaster, drum, chill

~~ 1 ~~
wrapped in a straw mat—
three smooth stones from the river
ripe with autumn’s chill
an axe to split them open
for sucking out the marrow
~~ 2 ~~
Startled by the cry
of a ripening cherry,
the old man stumbles,
breaking his arm’s plaster cast
into a thousand pieces.
~~ 3 ~~
the rain is over
for seven years and a day
empty husks rattle—
little playthings of the wind
drumming up more misery

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 211

Posted on August 9, 2015, in 5-7-5-7-7, tanka, The Sunday Whirl and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.

  1. The cry of the ripening cherry struck me down…like a battle between being and nature and the fracture that occurs that may never heal

  2. So sad…every time I read about the drought at your end, I try not to complain about our wet summer.

  3. I love “ripe with autumn’s chill”

  4. The cry of the ripening cherry stilled me, as well. Will its thirst be quenched?


  5. I think Dali painted something like this…

    • magicalmysticalteacher

      Huh. I think you’re right! 😉

      On Mon, Aug 10, 2015 at 3:29 AM, Magical Mystical Teacher wrote:


  6. Wonderful read. do feel bad for the one with a broken cast now.

  7. lovely … really great write MMT.

  8. I like each one, it seems there is mystery in the air…and misery, life is sometimes hard.

    • magicalmysticalteacher

      Harder than we would wish, as you well know…

      On Tue, Aug 11, 2015 at 3:16 AM, Magical Mystical Teacher wrote:


  9. “little playthings of the wind, drumming up more misery”—this is brilliant wording!

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