Sometimes a poem arrives, always
in its own good time, and sometimes
it does not come at all.
In purple twinkle of swaying
windbells high above me in the dark,
I am waiting for a poem to come.
in its own good time, and sometimes
it does not come at all.
In purple twinkle of swaying
windbells high above me in the dark,
I am waiting for a poem to come.