You could say there's a rune drawn on a leaf
thereafter follows a new season

 

    No art prospers in the valley
    where eyes meet like rivers.

    Only the tumbling waves 
    have a palette for rainbows, 

    droplets sparkle as facets
    of the rarely won gemstone.

    Only the tumbling, babbling waves
    overwhelm all questions.

 

    Not for me, nor the honeybee,
    this sweetness
    I place in your pocket.

    It is for you to love
    a shadow soothed away 
    by radiating Sun.

 

I start as a chirp
you love me
I end a sonata