Lately I waken
dreaming of haiku
and sleepily write
their half fathomed words
on unlined smooth leaves
of notebooks nearby.
Outside my window
I can clearly hear
season's first fallen
ash and maple leaves
eddying in corners
skipping sprung circles
in squared shelters of
garage doors and curbs
tsking sharp whispers
against rough concrete.
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1 comment:
I love those whispers - they tell me fall is coming.
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