leaves (41)

I take a path untouched since Autumn, deep into the mountains, where Winter hides like a fugitive. I find its traces- a lost handkercheif, some rags of its sheets and then its mantle, unfolded on the road. It must be somewhere near here!

strange breathing-
the silence pierced
by a birdcall

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leaves (40)

a wingless bird, this girl in a coma, a wave that comes and goes

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leaves (39)

In a world without birds, would man have ever sung?

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leaves (38)

soprano's high notes- a noise that puts birds to flight

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