April afternoon—
 
an old man blowing smoke rings
 
makes some children laugh.

 

 
 
 

Windy afternoon—
 
a wren makes little headway
 
through the cruel blasts.

 
 
 

Windy afternoon—
 
chimes hanging in the plum tree
 
howl like feral beasts.

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
smoke rising from a chimney
 
scents the falling snow.

 
 
 

In a cup of tea
 
I savor the world’s goodness—
 
autumn afternoon.

 
 
 

With a wooden cane
 
an old man stabs his way home—
 
autumn afternoon.

 
 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
a helicopter’s chopping
 
jolts me from my nap.

 
 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
one by one the maple leaves
 
abandon their tree.

 
 
 

Sultry afternoon—
 
on the porch we sip iced tea
 
while our tabby naps.

 
 
 

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