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One foot leaves the ground
then the other. For a split
second, I’m flying!

Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

-Shakespeare, The Tempest Act 2, scene 1, 245-254

Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there’s no rice.
-Basho

The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
-Shiki Masaoka (loose translation by Michael R. Burch)

Silence. A strangled
telephone has forgotten
that it should ring.
-Michael R. Collings