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

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.

heron alights at water’s edge,
becoming a statue.

thin strip of land
thickens the horizon,
tears to sailors’ eyes.