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on a high note
the trill of an unnamed bird
like a tiny ball in a whistle ~
the referee calls out plays
to the frog team


mock orange
and the sweetness of alyssum ~
spring aromas arrive
on the wings of birdsong
in a meditative moment


dog in the wind
cheeks blown back in a grin
she smells the ocean
in this land of mountain desert
inspired, we turn the car to the coast


Still playing with tanka.  3 (very) loosely related verses posted here for days 9, 10, and 11 of NaPoWriMo.