Wednesday, July 21, 2010

from Recollections of Another Time

Cherry Blossom Time

One day all white
blazing against
the cottony blue sky;
the next a wide wale
carpet--a second stream
beside the first--windblown,
ruffling the silence,
repeating winter--dotting
bottoms of serene black shoes
that kick through piled high

Plum Blossoms

The only way to appreciate
them is to become,
for the briefest time
Japanese. And if one
does, these can never
be the same.

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