Lapped at by the coursing mirrored-sky.
The rails run.
A leaf; a fountain; a cat; fruit.
Lazy were his steps; listless was his mind.
The earth; the moon.
The cranes cry to the cov’ring cloud.
These pages three, in their loose ‘n blank-lined state, are, together, a haiku.
Art ‘n poetry.
The grain is mismatched ‘cross the breaks.