Night is on the wane—
the moon receiving lightness
from the dandelions
The wind puffs
out the sky lights
and white puffs are falling dawn
Crows picking all wheat,
under the deep-knit furrows
only seeds of weeds.
Blazing
dragonflies—
the river gets the sunset
almost mother-of-pearl.
The first dream of the Year:
planting
olive branches together.
The banquet started
but all the imported roses
have already withered
