June ends with a buzz—
 
what are you saying to me,
 
busy honeybee?

 
 

Summer’s drought deepens—

dust settles down on my porch

like a tired old cat.

 
 

June draws to a close—
 
I think of my dog Skipper,
 
my childhood best friend.

 
 

Summertime nightmare:
 
burdens getting heavier
 
with enlightenment.

 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
the church bells ring all summer,
 
vexing both of us.

 
 

Plum, your purple skin
 
is not envied by the crows
 
or white butterflies.

 
 

On a sizzling day
 
a rusty gate starts singing
 
of monsoons to come.

 
 

How can you not know
 
where the sweetest blossoms are,
 
yellow butterfly?

 
 

Trickling through the pines,
 
a summer rain makes its way
 
to a desert place.

 
 

I can hardly wait
 
for summer to be over,
 
though it’s just begun!