Haiku # 474

This wandering world…
through the parting clouds
the hermit moon


Dans les plis de sa peau
le grain d’encens brule…


deep in the woods
the hermit’s thatch calling


What have I to offer?—
years of silence,
the face of the moon.


Between life and death
the falling rain
keeps falling


My best lines
read by no one…
dust in the wind


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