A Flute With No Holes Is Not

Every Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.

April's Air Stirs In Willow-leaves...a Butterfly Floats And Balances

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.

Year's End Still In Straw Hat And Sandals

On A Bare Branch A Crow Is Perched - Autumn Evening