heavy in my hands, I hold a bunch of spearflower berries; drip, drip, drip red juice
the only tea flowers I will see this season are boiling in my tea pot
why roses! so fresh and fragrant and in bloom – so out of season
there is no redder shade of red than that of nandin berries against a sky of grey
with soup of turnip I cure the tragedies of winter – melancholy and flu.
all the trees, all the plants – all their leaves bear withered tips
Japanese ivy quite like a chameleon blends with the seasons
tree branch – heavy leaves – collapses in my feet – soft thud, scattered buds
buds are popping white, pink, yellow – wet petals top the hedges now
I don’t feel save with heavy chestnuts above me and crushed ones to walk on!
On the small green hill yellow daffodils all over. Light wind smooths the grass.