Tuesday, 17 February 2015

Mid-February 2015, south-west France.

On a shrivelled quince
solitary on its tree
a pale butterfly.

2 comments:

  1. Ahhhh, the wabi/sabi of this haiku--very beautiful.

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  2. I am quite a 侘寂 (not to say 'grungey') person, and aiming to be more so, so that I can fully accept this hideously-beautiful, randomly-tragically dream-like existence (beyond either blame or ambition on the planet of pain) as I might accept (nay, marvel at!) a firefly at Chernobyl...or the power and complexity of a mosquito's saliva...or the gorgeous bitterness of an absinthe leaf.

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