Hyggebi
I miss his essence.
It is fleeting in leaves
that grow in all seasons
glow in all colors
and blow in the wind.
A beckoning on my shoulder
a watchful wise owl in a tree
Am I dreaming of komorebi?
Your warmth of your spirit
bakes the rustling fronds on the ground.
With my every step
their crunchiness speaks
to your essential sturdy spines.
Their branches unite
and separate us from different worlds.
The stillness is
a misty watercolor memory
a fleeting moment that I wish
could be reality.
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