Sandbar Morning
It was a morning in late autumn when the water parted in two before the sandbar. Stepping off the bus, I looked toward where the heron stood, and then saw only the water going on flowing.
It was a morning in late autumn when the water parted in two before the sandbar. Stepping off the bus, I looked toward where the heron stood, and then saw only the water going on flowing.
There was a morning when, just before the roadside streetlights went out, a ginkgo leaf shaken loose by the wind landed on the top of my foot. That leaf clung to the asphalt, still wet.