A chill in the air, winter's grip still tangible. I set out for the river. Katsuragawa, I knew, would be quiet. My friend had packed me a lovely bento lunch, including a little bottle of sake and ochoko (cup) .
There are a couple of magnificent old sakura near Katsura Rikyu, signposts of another era. Here I made my picnic on the slope.
The sun darted in and out of the clouds, the crisp afternoon radiant and golden one minute, muted and flat the next. The long sakura branches bobbed in the breeze, white blossoms trembling.
The river, stretched from the recent rain. glided by noiselessly, past the Imperial Villa, past these old sakura, past my petite hanami.
a great island of clouds
a blue sky
the sakura dance
on this stage
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