Squabble

Last day of the month—

two finches at the feeder

squabble over lunch.

Watching

watching my father

watching the blackbird strutting

on the backyard fence

Near the kitchen sink

three mangos in a white bowl

draw clouds of fruit flies.

On the cinder path

leading to the temple gate

a lone blackbird sings.

for the evening meal

bread still warm from the oven

and two cups of tea

Under a parked car

a feral cat takes refuge

from the midday heat.

After last night’s wind,

the lawn beneath the plum tree

is littered with fruit.

Just before daybreak

seven mockingbirds gossip

in my neighbor’s yard.

in desolate times

taking the way of haiku

through the wilderness

April afternoon—

one more sip of jasmine tea

then the long journey