reaped to white

reaped to white …
the old lady
on her bloom

past meridian

past meridian …
still crossing the jumbo
fly

half moon

half moon,
cut into halves — this
passing winter

#7

“What will they think of me?”
Don’t let this bother you any more if you don’t know exactly who ‘they’ are.

past darkness

past darkness
a white lotus in bloom …
blooming

doesn’t go

doesn’t go
remains frozen
a snail’s fossil

still there, somewhere

still there, somewhere …
behind the winter cloud,
traversing, the night

withered bough

withered bough
that was a crow’s son …
thunder

noon sun

noon sun …
unveiling the core
of a long shadow

writing for the night

writing for the night,
in silence …
an owl hoots