the puppy that knows not
our stroll in the park
of his paintbrush

singing skylark
butterflies wage war
behind us

low winter sun
shining in my soup bowl

clearing cobwebs
and then darkness
take flight

winter solstice
hush the heart
comes back
the raven's voice

abandoned house
climbing on a pine
who is not here
abandoned house

selling straw sandals
not knowing the bird
moonlit night

a chilling moon
looking back at their house
behind the pillar

for sale
from the patio door
not at all bothered
an icicle hangs

the scent of dusk…
a box of dolls
pure water

winter solitude
out of the water
about the moon

ours is a world of suffering
burst into full blossom
of her paintbrush

smoke from the fire
sparrows in the bamboo…
the waterfall roaring

i'm going out
yet still singing
the missing subject
in the pools

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