Sep 21, 2006
Late Night Haiku XVII
By Timothy R. Butler | Posted at 23:56:7
XXXXVII. Anticipation,
A rushing stream runs by me,
Where do those waves go?
XXXXVIII. Thoughts drift like a kite,
Quiet, lest I stir the night,
Lower from this great height.
XXXXVIX. A fish once read Twain's
Huck Fin. He never finished.
He had finite time.
