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He picked up a broken leaf

also, it can  be eyes, long

from the wet pavement nothing special yellowish

black leg stockings for cold winters

It meant fading and time passing

the floor was an autumn tapistry

it had been stepped on surely

names written on a leaf constellation

now it looked almost, say, grateful.

weak rain, same wind: a woman

Before getting home it flew and fell on the wet ground, again.

Profile for Ernesto Priego

Days of Flowers  

A hay(na)ku chapbook.

Days of Flowers  

A hay(na)ku chapbook.