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6 Things 3 May 2021


The cherry is the only tree in M's yard

the only thing left to say I am beautiful

among the junk and sacks of rubble and soil

and now her words are getting lost in the rain and she bows her head

a little chagrined and looking at her falling petals

The seventy two seasons of Hokkaido

to know them all by name their moves and occurances

The wind shove through the hedge gap blows me sideways

What are these tears

It is life grief

in the same measure as the voice of the wind

in the same profusion as the bluebells shaking and shaking

not metronomic but rocking with wind turmoil and wisdom

yet upright in their green each making a note

inaudible to the human but audible to the heart

which knows where to keep time

The staff of rhapsody I lean on is invisible to the eye

Two rain-soaked wood pigeon feathers grey fading to black

at the tip holding the water still as a thought

can be

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