With some red kisses
the wildness sun flowers
while the winter flees
*
At night I show you
small pieces of buckshot that gleam;
shot into the night
*
The wilderness calls
next to the big concrete jungle
where some lights glitter
*
At a small nozzle nest
a red weaver-bird parade;
the large sickle-bush flames.
*
The black tar road steams
whizzing like a great morass
while a green frog croaks.
Nature Haiku’s
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