Eventide

The paper swallow is hanging
Over the maple.
And the crag, covered
                        in moss
Silently roar and
                        cath air.
You can‘t run from crying
Echo of tomorrow
You can‘t.

Spatter of watter
Roughly cath‘s tired
                            sand, -
Silence.

Spring warber
Is resting tired
              In fresh shade,
And root of maple so hard,
Is silently breathing...
It‘s eventide.