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.
A hay(na)ku chapbook.