3900

Frangipani street
under my nose
under my feet

3899

reading haiku
beside them
a perfectly small bug

3898

the sun
in a mirror
returning the light

3897

from the bone winter trees
the caw of a crow
departing

3896

grandma’s lunch
her pain knuckled hands
setting the table

3895

between the trees
a tiger moth
climbs the sunbeam

3893

alone with rain
waving down the platform
to the train

3892

grey mist
late in the dawn
with no movable parts

3891

farmhouse
a meteor passing
leaves its light

3890

the garden gate
closes after me
brushing Frangipanis