My mood-
melancholia
or November?

After the harvest
nothing left on the field
but a scent

Pushing the button
but the light does not come on-
exactly that moment

The couple
at the other table
goes on and on

Last night
a granddad
was born

The meal
now sweet, then sharp
old friends

Driving west
somehow sensing
the sea

Dusk

starring

the city

In the city
I cannot find it
tonight's moon

Daylight
lost in the tunnel
graffiti

Eighteen at last-
driving to his own party
in mom's car

Football supporters
even their train compartment
has a tattoo

Girl's eyes
through the letterbox
her nikab

Butterflies
flying through the pain
her smile

Autumn dusk
on the barren field
an old tree

Talking
along the river
the path

Swans
low over the bridge
she takes my hand

These flowers
on the footbridge
across the tracks

Leisurely
a leaf flutters down
on my backpack

More than reeds
bending in the wind
it is not

One raindrop
and the leaf
lets go

The chill
of my wet coat
after the play

Sunday morning
the kitchen sink full of
Saturday evening

Autumn wind
a monk's hood bowing
to a rose

After reading
the morning paper
dirty hands

The window
when the moon
has passed