The cloudy afternoon through the red maple – painted leaves, inked branches, white paper sky. This could be a haiku about spring here seven thousand miles away from Osaka where every line counts as seven beats.
traveling a circuit from place to place,
not dropping haiku gently in cold snow,
white spring petals or the whispering river.
A knight-errant journeying home and neighborhood on walks
and tossing poems up into the air.