Lone geisha walks down an avenue
holding a saffron lantern
as if the moon had been captured
now lives at the end of a stick
and gently hovers and bobs
in a world of fog.
Her steps are small
and the colors of kimono and obi
are hidden in the folds of haze.
Only the ends of an errant willow
touch her in greeting
as she shrinks into nothingness
at the ends of avenue