The Bird of Death
It comes for me, too.
No matter where we are
in the turning of the seasons,
I will no longer try
to hide from the bird.
Because it pecks
at the edge of winter,
this world is overfull
with the force of life.
It is because
the bird comes
that the seasons
are beautiful.
It is because
the bird has come
that flowers bloom.
Let it ride the wind—
there is no need to resist.
The bird
is already on its way.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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