Haiku

Window as frontier:
Restless trees. Slashing rain. Or?
Houseplants. Water can.
 
Coast shakes, uneasy:
Burning skies and yapping dogs;
Just three feet of rock.
 
I walk the neat rows
Of white stones and I marvel
At how they line up.

The contrast with the
Green grass is stark and I want
To honor their lives.

I find her stone and
Fall to my knees as I think
About what I lost.

All gave some and some
Gave all but why did she have
To be one of them?
 
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