Small Travels

Last night, with the full moon rising, a raw wind stirring up, and my daughter saying as we walked into town, Hey, it’s cold, and what about those dark clouds following us?, I remembered walking around this house when it was empty, on a bitter winter’s night, thinking whoever lived here would have an exquisite view of the rising moon.

While spring is the season of sprawl  – get out the garden shovels and pea fencing, wash the winter’s dust from blankets and rugs and pin them on the line – November is the season of drawing in. Gather the stray soccer balls. Press the garlic down deep.

Holding the umbrella,
The mother is behind.
The autumn rain.

– Nakamura Teijo

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