A broken dream –
where do they go
the butterflies?
~Ichimu*

*cited:
Japanese Death Poems
Y Hoffmann
A broken dream –
where do they go
the butterflies?
~Ichimu*

*cited:
Japanese Death Poems
Y Hoffmann
chasing a memory
lost in the winter woods
I am lost

Clipped Wings

How did it come to this?
A forced landing, weakened wings
a solid source of former strength,
taking you through
dark clouds and heavy downpours.
Those resilient wings assured your
bodily independence
as you soared through storms,
high winds battering
and pressing upon your life.

Now those same weathered wings
bear evidence of missing feathers,
thinning bones and shrunken wingspan,
no longer able to lift and sour
or glide with the gusto that carried
you through turbulent tempests.
Slowly, slowly you learn to accept
those clipped wings, to be content
with nesting in the arms of elderhood.

You submit to this final appendage
of your journey, bid farewell
to cherished autonomy
and slowly fold your worn wings
in peaceful surrender.
~Joyce Rupp*
*cited:
Fly While You Still Have Wings
Joyce Rupp
My abode is
in winter seclusion
on this white mountain in Echigo.
No trace of humans
coming or going.
~Ryokan*

*cited:
Sky Above, Great Wind
K Tanahashi
silver dewdrops
and my companion…
sharp shadows
~Issa*
Day 5: shadow & reflection…connect

*cited:
Pine mushrooms
live a thousand years
in one summer?

Easterbrook, WY
Lightning flickers
only in the north:
the moon is overcast.
~Aamano Hachiro*

*cited:
Japanese Death Poems
Y Hoffmann
Seventy-eight!
How did
a dew drop last?

I have not yet grown tired
of this world – where do
weary winds blow?
~Gofu

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