leaves has fallen; gone
perssimon has been bare
garden is wide open clear
pine tree is looking down
weakened by hurricane
vines still clinging in vane
am focus on my window pane
curtain metamorphose to pale
slits are still sturdy against time
squirell quits coming for a week
squash has bared too much fruit
things i had notice before i sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem