The storm’s eye
Stillness prevails
shortly
Until the onslaught
Fresh morning
Trees hide in the fog
Crickets start working
Simmering water
The rice is nearly
ready
But the cranes leave
soon
Cool night
Foliage turns red
But the geese still
stay
You look at the moon
And the moon looks
back at you
A friend in sadness
Some scattered dark
clouds
The first blue glowing
behind
And the warbler’s song
Cool morning
Brimmed with golden
lights
From street lamps
Light autumn rain
And a carpet of yellow
leaves
People walk upon
Leaves are turning red
Wild geese getting
ready to leave
But crickets still
sing
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