Sun on new buds.
Have forgotten
the sound of
falling leaves,
cascading at times.
More of the sound
of a spring shower.
Overtaking me
as I wander
through the day.


*****
The border of the sky,
changes with the new season.
Which is really old in appearances.
Hawk flies the currents
High enough in the blue
It's not thinking of food.
Then, must be for freedom.
Us mortals merely touch.