Poverty's Child - He Starts To Grind

Traveler's Heart. Never Settled Long In One Place. Like A Portable Fire.

Come, Butterfly It's Late- We've Miles To Go Together.

Farewell, My Old Fan. / Having Scribbled On It, / What Could I Do But Tear It / At The End Of Summer?

On A Bare Branch A Crow Is Perched - Autumn Evening

Felling A Tree And Gazing At The Cut End - Tonight's Moon