Winter evening rain—
 
a blackbird keeps on flying,
 
bent on getting home.

 
 
 

The blackbird tells me
 
that when the cherry blossoms,
 
all things shall be well.

 
 
 

A red-winged blackbird,
 
perching on a twilit reed,
 
bends it toward the moon.

 
 
 

Blackbird in the oak,
 
perhaps I’ll listen to you
 
on some other day.

 
 
 

How will the blackbird
 
find its way home in the mist
 
on this winter’s day?

 
 
 

summer solitude—
 
a red-winged blackbird hunting
 
fruitlessly for food

 
 
 

Between here and there,
 
a long and lonely journey—
 
come with me, blackbird!

 
 
 

First outing of spring—
 
the blackbird and I follow
 
a steep mountain path.

 
 
 

the apricot tree
 
awaits its winter pruning—
 
blackbird winks at me

 
 
 

Sunday morning rain—
 
the left wing of the blackbird
 
quivers with each drop.