grass shivers in moving sunlight that glints off a rifle barrel

sunset ignites an invisible jet under a moon in the clouds

night comes at four knee deep in mist on the bridge to nowhere

salt on the tongue tang in the air makes fog believe the sea is there

Date Published: November 3, 2016

http://www.underthebasho.com/2016-issue/one-line-haiku/1740-bruck,-ingrid.html