Late Night Haiku XX

By Timothy R Butler | Posted at 6:35 AM

LV. Wind blows, blows and blows,
Winter's desires are swept
Away by Spring's march

LVI. Truth. What is this thing
That slips through my hands like sand
Or a startled bird?

LVII. A bird perches there,
Quietly observing the view,
As all else goes by.

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