I apologize for being late. Lately I have been on some medication that makes me very tired and forgetful.
In this Weekly Avocet, my two haiku are published. Thank you, editors, for taking the haiku.

Raven, the memory

In my ill bed, I heard the cry
of the raven.
I flung open my eyes;
Mom used to say "when a raven cries someone dies."

Still feverish, I stared out the window.
So, I'm going to die? the thought frightened me;
a wink of death.

"Mom," I called. no response. unusual. 
I kicked the blanket, got out of the room,
and searched through the house, in vain. 

Mom used to chat with a village mom;
toward her house I ran;
the afternoon sun followed me.

Arriving at the house, I fell into 
Mom's arm, in the yard. 
"Let's go home," I said.
"You should be in bed."

"I'm scared."
"What happened?"
Embarrassed, I said no word.

That evening, Dad said 
"The oldest village man passed today.
Ninety-eight. Good age to leave."
Mom nodded.

Her hand on my forehead, Mom smiled.
"The fever is gone!"
I sighed.
What did it mean; crying at my window? 

©Byung A. Fallgren

On the Drive to meet the daughter

Fluffy little dog and lamb play
in the blue field of sky; on the way
to the town where she will stay.

But the cars and trucks on the road 
are racing; competing;

semis sandwiching the little car;
as the gust bellows from the wheat field.

The lone scarecrow waves a Safe Drive song:

Home is near at the end 
of the silver lane,
where the flower boy is waiting for you
at the railroad cross, with a bouquet of
cotton clouds and lambs; in the sky.

So, it seems; hard to see it unfolds
in no known seconds.  

©Byung A. Fallgren  

Avoiding the Villane

Being an insomniac,
do some 3 a.m. hike on the trail of
thoughts, then meet the authors in the pages;
sometimes, they are kind to send me
to the sleepy slope of grab the alternative; any book.
Words are not to be blamed;
need to be lost in the blank world;
not to be bothered
in the known hours of pain.

–Byung A. Fallgren