Now and again, the clocks that we’ve
buried offer us calloused palms.
Dressed in weary bandages of dry, rotting
earth, weeping hands reach out from biting
mire with time on their skin.
They do this so that we may know the
frailty of our faces.
Now and again, the clocks that we’ve
buried offer us calloused palms.
Dressed in weary bandages of dry, rotting
earth, weeping hands reach out from biting
mire with time on their skin.
They do this so that we may know the
frailty of our faces.
Over glowing glass,
broken feet beckon shyly,
fearful of impassioned paths.
Wisteria hair
stumbles against broad shoulders,
steeped in the heat of her flame.
Over the weekend, my husband and I infused sake with two pints of fresh strawberries. Two days ago, I did the first straining to remove the strawberries. Today, the sake went through a second filtering to remove any bits of strawberries that remained after the initial straining. We are going to pour our first glass tonight!
Do you want to try making this kind of infused sake at home?
Here is the recipe!
Recipe: Strawberry-infused sake
Hands–puckered, pale, and patched–
slowly grow stiff
in the geometric sea that once kept
them warm.
All branches are struck by
time’s uncontrollable thunder.
Incomplete trees line landscapes, clinging fiercely to
shifting earth.
During Japan’s 花見/hanami season, visitors to Minobusan Kuonji Temple enjoy taking photographs of the temple’s numerous cherry-blossom trees, which are blooming in abundance.
Yamanashi Prefecture
2016年4月2日