A blue jay soars downward like a falcon returning to an outstretched gauntlet. He swerves up at the last minute, perches on a branch of the maple overhanging the deck.
Not for long. A robin flies up, thrusts his beak into the blue jay’s breast. They flutter. Then the blue jay takes off.
fallen feathers
one orange breast thrusting
through the canopy
more by FRANK J. TASSONE
photograph by Bill Williams
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.
