Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.
April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?