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All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
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All the difficult hours and minutes
are like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turned steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.
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.(first appeared in Poetry magazine; used with permission).
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I love it!
Nice post and fantastic poem. I love it…
Ｍｅ ｔｏｏ！……＆Congratulationｓ！！！！