beyond the limits of ​your ​imagination​ (or mine)​, without ​any​ blink of an eye, ​​a​n​ ​unoriginated​ wind is winnowing its harvest.

​you (the reader) will have been reading this ​long ​before I (the writer) ​am​ conceiving any image to embody its crafting

as stick figures
a fine rain trickles along
the woodcut’s grooves

Hansha Teki