Haiga Archive

burning
the moons get little praise
in teh old market

the road ahead…
from fortune sticks and incense
burnt to ashes

wrapped
in furoshiki
winter sunshine

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green
turns brown
the splash of water

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lonely footsteps
on a beach
sound of the receding tide

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late night
footsteps
autumn wind

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creased morning
bathing in sunshine
from my bed

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