on all the pieces of driftwood. When they collect, they bump into each other in my arms and sound as if they have taken a vow and with it their old names such as ash, oak, teak and pine. Now they are leaning against the wall of the house in their gray robes, which the salty water has tailored for them out of his great patience, with a gleam of stars here and there, which no longer takes fire.
THE ONLINE PORTAL OF THE GERMAN HAIKU-GESELLSCHAFT EV
Bernadette Duncan (in: summer grass 127)
The sea plays marimba at night
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Year of publication: 2019
