
Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.

Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.

legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.

bare branches,
in the Winter forest,
look frost-covered.

through a window:
first ripples of a Spring rain
seen on a pond.

The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.

through the Autumn,
one tree holds leaves longer,
then drops them faster.

chilly winter day,
prismatic splotch in sky—
no bow, no ring.

Winter sun
casts long shadows
through dead grass.

farm surrounded by jungle:
what will disappear tonight?

one strange tree
curls like a question mark:
Autumnal forest.