roadside saplings
take Fall colors for a time,
before going bare;
the envy of humans:
at once young & old.
Young & Old [Kyōka]
Reply
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep;
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep;
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

the cannonball tree:
blooms bright & intricate,
but never delicate.

a bonsai tree:
gnarled & twisted,
yet so strong.

the heron stares at
the unwitting egret’s back:
unfond of flatmate?
Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet) ---
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.