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. 

March

reluctant spring
watches
from the distance
like hesitant 
neighbor's cat

the broken tulip
by the deer
last spring
still dreams
in the frozen soil

©Byung A. Fallgren

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. 

Night Haiku

in the wee hours
two owls hoot to each other
wise winter night

it happens at midnight
a screech owl flies by my house
shrills the climate change

moon hides in the tree
as rabbit skids on the ice
spring won't be here soon


©Byung A. Fallgren

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