Deep emerald maple leaves blossom on my neighbor’s tree. The trunk—in shadow—looks almost black. It casts little shade over the aging, clubhouse-swing set that my neighbor worked so hard to erect.
The one no one has played on in so long.
empty backyard
leaves flutter in a passing
summer breeze
Photo by Yonan Farah
Frank J. Tassone
Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.
