Touching the weather.

Seeing five hundred jackdaws strutting on the field.


Getting an impulse about danger to my life.
A warning signal from the subconscious.


Being called a weakling,
while my compassion is exploited, twisted,
and an ongoing stagnation creaks.


(Everything came uneventfully,
but with quick flaps of wings...)


The Summer pays for my longing for Autumn.