MIST AND GREY SKY

opens the day. When it liftswe see the amazing blue behind the white clouds.
At the pond all the birds start to wash themselves. No, perhaps not the crows. They sit in the trees and shout loudly.

My haiku"

How do I embrace
The whole world my arms too small
Reach for the moon instead.

And the proverb:

Crows are never the whiter for washing themselves.