April afternoon—
 
a girl tries to coax a wren
 
to eat from her hand.

 
 
 

The bookstore cat naps
 
in the poetry section
 
on spring afternoons.

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

A door stands open
 
on an autumn afternoon,
 
but no one goes in.

 
 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
a battle-weary soldier
 
dreams of going home.

 
 
 

Scorching afternoon—
 
the guy across the street yells,
 
“You want a cold beer?”

 
 

A tiny red ant
 
drags a summer afternoon
 
into its tunnel.

 
 

Scorching afternoon—
 
I find some shade, write haiku,
 
and savor iced tea.

 
 

Sizzling afternoon—
 
we savor conversation
 
with homemade ice cream.

 
 
 

Thinking of blossoms
 
on a frigid afternoon,
 
I shiver with joy.