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

Just Washed, How Chill The White Leeks!

Why So Scrawny, Cat? Starving For Fat Fish Or Mice... Or Backyard Love?

Around Existence Twine, (oh, Bridge That Hangs Across The Gorge!) Ropes Of Twisted Vine.

A Thicket Of Summer Grass / Is All That Remains / Of The Dreams Of Ancient Warriors.

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