sunrise paints the haze
the color of campfire flames,
and nothing looks real,
but rather like a painting
by an artist, skilled & lazy.
World Writ Minimalist [Kyōka]
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On winding pool with willows dim,
At narrow strait the lovebirds swim.
Green duckweeds float,
Barring the lotus-picking boat.
Nor butterflies nor bees
Love fragrance from the withered trees.
When her red petals fall apart,
The lotus bloom 's bitter at heart.
The setting sun greets rising tide,
The floating clouds bring rain.
The swaying lotus seems to confide,
Her sorrow to the poet in vain.
Then she would not be wed to vernal breeze.
What could she do now autumn drives away wild geese?
Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p.226.

the last cluster
of frangipani flowers
tops a bare tree.

spring green to the right;
tawny stalk stubble on the left
a seasonless dreamworld?


a barren tree
paints dancing shadows
on the sandy canyon.

some spiders scurry
when their web trembles,
but not the orbweaver.

lonely egret
wades in calm water,
awaiting lunch.