to the slow day slumbering along
in the corners of Kyoto.

to frost-laden pines, pining for the day.
the day that tomorrow will bring.

to the moon shaved so thin, a razor blade
blushes from being eaten by darkness.

to that noisy cicada, as it hula dances
out of its crisp shell, making Buddha envious.
for having all those lives.
to a blade of grass, sighing.

06/17/2010

Posted on 06/17/2010
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