=15=

senryu
fighter jets tracking
shadows of ghost planes in vain
radar keeps circling


tanka
in their leap of faith,
some holding hands together
streak through clearest blue,
descend with knell of impact—
autumn's mist of pink rising


tanka
the drone at dawn,
a hijacked plane glinting bright,
the unseen struggle
passing lower overhead,
farmers in their fields waving


tanka
fifteen years later,
I look across from Jersey—
Tower South is down,
the other is still standing,
People gasp, watching smoke trails.