July’s last morning—
 
sunflowers near the red fence
 
raise their golden heads.

 
 
 

Shouting and laughing,
 
two boys knock down sunflowers
 
with their baseball bats.

 
 
 

Summer afternoon—
 
near the red fence white roses
 
drop petals like snow.

 
 
 

Wind, relentless wind!
 
Three sunflower heads snap off—
 
great is my keening.

 
 
 

Deepening summer—
 
rats have stolen every grape
 
from my backyard vine.

 
 
 

With morning glories
 
blooming on the backyard fence,
 
why shouldn’t I sing?

 
 
 

Sizzling afternoon—
 
under a broken clay pot
 
a toad takes refuge.

 
 
 

Summer afternoon—
 
one stray leaf on a park bench
 
delights a young child.

 
 
 

Afternoon downpour—
 
two boys launch white paper boats
 
into the gutter.

 
 
 

Just in time for tea,
 
a housefly lands on the rim
 
of my steaming cup.