(untitled)#64

.

shepherding

the notes of a flute

just the wind

.

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(untitled)#63

.

quick-silver runs

on the wave crest – the moon

crashes onto the beach

.

where once

my hairline now tumble

white whiskers

.

stealing silver

creeping out – behind a cloud

moon shadows fall

.

(untitled)#61

in the mirror held

frog’s silvered reflection – still

in the otherworld

.

surrounded by waves

pondering – so profoundly

even the mud hears

.

soundly – frog stamps

on ripples – the universe

his seal of fate