First week of August—
 
the wait time’s growing longer
 
for morning glories.

 
 
 

On an August day
 
I seek respite from the sun—
 
shadows of the oak.

 
 
 

The late-night café—
 
a lingering customer
 
flirts with the waitress.

 
 
 

First night of the month—
 
the waning moon pours itself
 
into my teacup.

 
 
 

As July winds down,
 
the husband of a friend dies
 
unexpectedly.

 
 
 

As July winds down,
 
the stone Buddha’s lap fills up
 
with empty wind songs.

 
 
 

birds in my plum tree
 
snatching up hapless insects
 
for their midday snack

 
 
 

Sunshine, books, and tea—
 
on a languid summer day
 
a taste of all three!

 
 
 

Deep summer longing:
 
to see morning glories bloom
 
before July ends.

 
 
 

midsummer delight—
 
browsing the library stacks
 
to find a good read