All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.
Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.
With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.