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Spring! And two girls kiss!
Well, actually,
it's more of a glom.
Hot afternoons,
cold mornings and nights. Alone,
I sip lukewarm tea.
Alone with sadness,
distractions, and tea, he waits
for the blood moon.
Too angry to sleep,
too sleepy to dance or fight.
Think of Spring flowers?
Largest mug in house,
now empty of coffee--
birds sing in sunshine.
Midafternoon heat--
waving feathers hide turkey's
decaying body.
Basho was fifty.
I'm close, but with no sign of
genius legacy!
