letter to spring / michael kwack

in a wind

there i smell a scent of spring

i've passed the winter away

in a far place alone

but it was now

only hours of emptiness

i've got to write letters

the last confession to myself

then meet the spring

in complete quietness

Read and leave comments (1)

Leisurely and alone,

I was wandering in the museum garden.

​

Flowers were completely gone,

But deep green summer leaves fully grown,

And on each branch

Small birds all the way chirping:

​

Certainly for me a perfect afternoon

To be seated still and calm,

To be lost in poem-reciting!

​

But suddenly a wind arose

When a human voice caught my ear,

Saying low ye...

Read and leave comments (0)

The Poor Little Dove/Michael Kwack

To watch the wave play with the wind,

I sat by the museum garden pond.

Then a small pigeon came flying,

Landed to her feet, tiny and cute,

And stared up at me, a bit intensely,

Only blinking her eyes, no other move.

She was like a camera model baby,

And I recalled my infanthood pictures.

I started taking some ph...

Read and leave comments (0)