Renaissance Haiku

Dust rising on air –
Breezes carry scent of meat.
Essence of the Fest.

My lord, my lady,
Sir, or Mistress, “Good morrow!”
Hawkers cry out wares.

Circlet of flowers
On my head with dragonfly;
Nature’s regal crown.

Amber tinted drink
Glass of cider in my hand.
Smooth sweetness down throat.

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