This poem is a sequel to “Basho: Return To The Deep South” and as such, the context of this poem will better be understood after the first is read.
it is still winter in the south
the village is quiet and sleeping,
i stand alone on the road
gazing at the white window
beneath the great full moon
hoping against hope
for a face to suddenly appear
i was told the former owner
has gone and moved away,
now the path has mounds of snow
windows are open to the wind
while doors keep rattling in the cold
sounding like melancholy thumps
of a broken soul
i shiver at the memory i held last spring
when windows were open to the world
and the door was a smile of welcome
to a traveler weary of his dreams,
now i feel like a man who lost his shadow
for even the moon is hidden
behind the clouds
perhaps i will wait until spring
when trees would have
a younger shade of green,
when with warmer sun
i will not need a warming fire
with smoke that makes my eyes
burn with tears
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