Ieodo

Everything is blue.
Sky and sea
have cooled into a single hue.
On the shore, dry branches
lie tangled together,
low against the ground.
A lifetime of wind
remains in their limbs.
Far out at sea,
a single rocky island
floats like a small dot,
beyond reach.
We might call this
a landscape.
But the wind is too close
for that.
Before we know it, our clothes stir
and our breath grows cold.
The viewer
is no longer outside the frame.
We have already stepped in
among the wet branches.
Fūdo—the climate and character of a place—
is not something to look at from afar.

It means standing within it,
meeting the same wind
and growing cold together.
The island is still far away.
But the wind
is already here.