shadows glide across

clouding the cheerful bower

my lone hiding place

counting the days

black crow knocks at the window

cold wind’s hollow voice

early winter night frost--

the door, opening gently

a framed pale moon

paper flags wave in the autumn wind

whispering words and sprinkle letters

words fall to the ground

lights glare from the dark

tree leaf

a wind instrument

smell of fresh coffee

dispels grey negative thoughts

I welcome day light

remains of a dream

moonlight a pale mountain hem 

steam of a morning tea

strong lunar poems

pull shy stars from the dark sky

heal a broken heart

waves with white blue crowns

bringing message to the shore

from the other side