A slice of life as it comes . . . maybe.
dry skeletons
the garden needs to be cleared
for winter
guitar strum
the words find
a tune
dismantle
the separations
eating rice
discarded masks
civilization reaches
the country
fountain pen
the words flow
for others
one, two . . . thirty-three
toads in the woods emerge
in the dusk
sushi nori
the pieces of life
roll together