WINTER'S LINGERING, A SIJO
March breeze topples oak and pine trees,
Whispering “widow-maker”
In the only language they know,
Winds breathe leaves like words that blow.
Shallow roots near the surface grow
But deep is mud, where dead things live.
March breeze topples oak and pine trees,
Whispering “widow-maker”
In the only language they know,
Winds breathe leaves like words that blow.
Shallow roots near the surface grow
But deep is mud, where dead things live.