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deep winter, haiku

here, again
but no longer surprised
(after years of this)
at the winter urge towards haiku
The same impulse drives me to clear my desk,
coffee table , book bag. Holidays are gone
once our decorations are packed away
I learn
(again)
to love a room, a desk, a page swept bare
Once cleared,
I scatter a few
petals,
stones,
words
across this plain surface
and watch it transform
see space and spareness
become
beautiful

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