Autumn approaches my threshold.
What do I see when I open my eyes?
Lacy leaves, a slow butterfly, dew
on the grass not yet dry, azure sky…
It is said that the movement of one
butterfly resonates in the cosmos.
Is it possible, then, to transmit
a message, wingbeat by wingbeat,
to flickering stars?
And in the murmur
of leaves in the wind,
to hear the earth's heart?