This morning,
felt like a long winter night.
Drifting over withered fields.

Even the magpies,
full of welling thoughts
began to spit blood.

So, I talked with the
Chinese lady who reads
books in English.

And tended to my words,
like the crops and vegetables
from a different time and place.

Once again, we saw
a current making tiny waves.
As we faced the streets,
with spring blossom.

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