Ikuyo Yoshimura



a four-leaf clover
in the secondhand book
a slight smell of summer

early summer wind---
souvenir dolls
wink at each other

summer wind carries
the sound of piano trio
from the forest

a katydid
talking to
every star in heaven

iris pond---
the way of wind

lying on the grass
my finger traces graffiti in the sky
as if writing music

even a doll
in the rubble,
bathing in ocher sand

the whiteness of a rose of Sharon
breaks a tinge of darkness---
tea ceremony

a pink seashell
of the Indian Ocean
recalls my native seashore

jazz concert
on the Sunday beach
seagulls, too, in crowds



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