Autumn-Twilight
The hills cast shadows,
And pampas grass is swaying
In sunlit meadows.
Buson
Autumn Moon
Is there anyone
Who will not take up his brush
With this moon tonight!
Onitsura
three noisy mallards
zipping
through a shattered zone
strewn detritus of
torn ochre and golden pinks
mashed into shards,
blown hither and thither
