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