Spring
rainy days
make the monk Ryōkan
feel sad.
Summer
the moon in my window
is all the thief left behind.
Autumn
an autumn wind
chills the dangling persimmons,
and my testicles.
Winter
little birds have
gathered in the brushwood
on a snowy morn.
fresh white blossoms
& weathered hues of decay:
both old & young (like me.)
standing on one leg,
steadfast while squirrels mistake
one for a tree.
nature makes no
straight rivers; men make none
that meander.
opera singers
sing a duet on the trail:
acoustics quest?
where drunken immortals
are role models, one must
expect the odd dragon.
a butterfly flits
over blooms: a connoisseur
not deigning to land.
the flowers hide
in tall grass & sedges,
but bees still find them.
a bee-eater lands on a barbed wire fence for a cozy rest.
bovine brothers? or twins? or maybe I'm just seeing double?
