[Coldness of Winter] a tanka string

pungent scent of navel oranges 

a breakfast of silence 

not really sure how i fell 

a man i do not know 

stares at me intently on the bus 

his eyes cloudy gray of a coming storm 

afternoon walk to the city park 

everything in me

craving the sharp coldness of Winter 

leaving the coffee mug in the sink 

no lover 

and no child brighten this house 

visiting an old park 

seated on a bench 

writing in the glow of a slowly setting sun 

the old woman 

passing by for a third time 

glint of sun off the shopping cart she pushes 

manman what exactly do you see 

in the afterlife? 

has  Emma-ō been kind to you