Three Closed Eye Tanka

I
rustling leaves,
i hear only chaos;
the blind man hears
a single leaf fall,
hitting others as it drops

II
the sunshine
glows on my eyelids,
warms my face;
i see movement in
shifting dark blotches

III
the city noise,
so chaotic when looking,
becomes ordered
when I close my eyes
and sit with the sound

This entry was posted in poem, Poetry, tanka and tagged Blindness, poem, poetry, Sightlessness, Sound, tanka by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.