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