Plashy Earth

The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist ....

... joining Wordsworth as a traveller on the moor.
On Barton with ancient friends again. Some fresh snow.

Never mind The Glorious 12th ... Haiku season still in full swing.

Bleak and windy day
Not known if life lived is true
Roaming aimless paths