since months. In the morning I hang the bird's nets with peanuts and seeds in the tree. I better not let them during the night outside, the next morning they are surely empty, this done by, I assume, the raccoons. I leave for them some bread.
That they like too.
I see one snowdrop and two crocus heads, one yellow, one white.
And in the clematis a little leaf for ever clinged. That I want to show today.
Of course we made a nice walk, Piet Hein and I, through the forest, over a vast field slowly descending, there blew a cold wind. Along the Weser homewards and we notice that the water has sunk already. The bench still in the water yesterday stands now dry. The swans undisturbed we see swimming and eating from the bottom of the river.

My haiku:

You, my silk eyed friend
Almost disappearing moon
Are you almighty?

And the proverb again from Shakespeare:

Oh, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon.

I read three poems by Robert Burns: A Rose-Bud By my early walk, Had I a cave and of course Auld Lang Syne.
Easier to understand than the first poem we read of Paul Celan: Ein Lied in der Wüste. Even after ten times reading there are still many hermetic sentences, but for some we had help from Internet.

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