All night long rain fell,
 
weeds and flowers drank each drop—
 
still, they thirst for more.

 
 
 

Spring rain fell all night,
 
singing to the wilderness,
 
“Let there be blossoms!”

 
 
 

A labyrinth walk
 
on a third-month afternoon—
 
look, a red-tailed hawk!

 
 
 

First bad dream of spring—
 
my bank account is plundered
 
by an online thief.

 
 
 

Night of the new moon—
 
“Tell me a ghost story, Dad,”
 
a little boy begs.

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
you sing the first spring anthem
 
in your repertoire.

 
 
 

Waning crescent moon—
 
I need a thicker jacket
 
to ward off the chill.

 
 
 

Waiting for sunrise
 
on one of winter’s last days,
 
I savor my tea.

 
 
 

On St. Patrick’s Day
 
I sip some Irish coffee
 
and watch the sunset.

 
 
 

Flowers and fruit trees
 
tremble–the gardener comes
 
armed with pruning shears.