an autumn sapling,
red leaves on a stiff twig,
shakes in the breeze;
i can't help but think of it
as a gray-haired baby.
Gray Baby [Kyōka]
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a little bird,
on a bit of driftwood,
speeds downriver
in the dusky, fading light.
doesn’t it know it can fly?

the cormorant,
glistening & dripping,
must air dry
before it’s a bird again;
humans cramp in the pool.

i see snakes jutting
from the water; usually
i’d discover
it’s not snakes but sticks,
but today isn’t the usual.