unlike the last March two years ago with heap of snow this mild March stirs hope ©Byung a. Fallgren

Aunt She was sick and nowhere to go, Mother said. So she came to us, her brother's home. Most of her days she sat in her room, looking out the door at us, little kids in our room looking at her thin face, with wry smile, for hugs were not allowed; only hello and blown kiss. Wearing her shame, like a thick, bruised skin, the possibility of spreading the disease to the loved ones, she wished her days were brief; she would wait for the day she could rest, beneath the snow of the backyard mound. After she had gone, Mother came down with the aunt's breath and fever; worried for us; blamed the aunt's gift that would bring the doom home; we all were wrapped in her shadow. To this day, we siblings have been free of the aunt's feverish breath; wish it would stay that way, like the days of the vanished wind. Aunt's ghost smiles like the olden days, when she could play with us kids. ©Byung A. Fallgren
My three haiku are published in The Weekly Avocet #536. Thank you, Charles, Vivian, and Valerie for taking the pieces.
My poem, Spring Tree Song has been accepted to be published in the Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry, printed issue, Spring 2023. Thank you, Charles, Vivian and Valerie for taking this piece.
Shades of the Night Her brother slipped away from the days of dreams and pains, unbeknown to her; while reading or thinking of the book "Story of Buddha" he gave her long ago. Every evening, her sister would send her the lovely pictures; her tears would drown in the sea of the encouraging lines, from abroad; but it could not stop her worry for her daughter moans of her life. she'd walk in the dream, listening to the beggar or robber; he'd kill if he doesn't get the money. The dirge from the radio woke her. Wind howls at the crescent moon; melting ice jeers; drink the tea of moon drop. ©Byung A. Fallgren
Winter Berries, the Crow Red clusters of the seeds of dream; silent screams of time gone too soon, hanging from the bear branches; soft snow's empathy; lone crow ponders, if this beauty is what death looks like. He listens to the spirits of the season gone, in the nature, in the human voices that always gives him shiver, in the drifting snow from the pine trees, too profound to chew and swallow. He pecks the little berry; surprised by the firm grip on the community of its world; tilt his head, gaze more, feels the knot in his heart, with sudden yearning, he takes off. ©Byung A. Fallgren
My three poems, Depletion of Ozone Layer, Global Warming, Protecting Water source are published in this issue. Thank you, Charles, Vivian, and Valeri for taking my poems. Byung A.
Winter Haiku no birds are flying but the drifting snow everywhere deep winter is here green juniper's branch sticks out through the snow on it what is going on the town under the snow so quiet, it is picturesque lone rabbit hops round under the deep snow nothing seems moving, even trees why the wind howls so clouds seem to tell us looking at the deep snow here put it to good use ©Byung A. Fallgren