Tuesday, February 27, 2007
After reading a simple haiku (just within a number of seconds) you feel
free of it. It is like a breeze, like a lightest touch of wind or flame,
so simple that you can't divide it into smaller parts, thus you can't
think of it too much. It touches you tenderly and immediately releases.
I caught one
And let it fly.
Sweeping it off, again
Sweeping it off, still
Snow on my sleeves