Ree Lee

Untouchable spring,
Slowly arrives in the northern hemisphere,
Blooming bright flowers,
Growing fresh grass.

The snow that fell that day,
Was like billions of tiny pearls,
Laid out on the wooden boards.

The sky was white, In the blink of an eye, it turned to night.

When both hands are placed in a pile of dry hay,

Sometimes it’s a bit prickly,

Sometimes it’s very warm.

When both hands grasp a handful of dry hay,

Sometimes it’s damp,

Sometimes it’s very dry.

Morning dewdrops
Linger on the slightly damp grass,
Waiting for the sunny day to dry them out,
Waiting for the rainy day to wash them away,
Waiting for the cloudy day’s breeze to blow them dry,
Playing alongside them.

Soft, fluffy clouds in the sky,
Each with a different shape,
When dark clouds gather,
It’s time to prepare for rain.

Every piece of wood,
Has its own look.
Every kind of tool,
Has its own life span.

In a world of tiny snowflakes,
Stands a leafless tree,
Its branches,
Frozen solid.

Winter, There’s a butterfly so very cold,
At the beginning of winter, Is it really that cold?

The sky was white, In the blink of an eye, it turned to night.