honeysuckle scent,
in the breeze, the moon turns
into a flared nostril
in the breeze, the moon turns
into a flared nostril
©2009 Beatrice V
Publ. Blithe Spirit (Journal of the British Haiku Society) vol. 21 No 2, June 2011
In the far off dark, night owls sang their winter courtship song...
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