Late-summer heatwave—
 
I long for cooler weather
 
and cherry blossoms.

 
 
 

Last day of August—
 
among lantana blossoms,
 
ladybugs make love.

 
 

The melon farmers
 
count their blossoms one by one—
 
deeper grows the drought.

 
 

In my wooden flute
 
my breath becomes plum blossoms—
 
fragrance for the world.

 
 

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

 
 

Cherry blossoms fade—
 
I hear Sister Lizard call:
 
“Come to where I dwell.”

 
 

With great reverence
 
pilgrims bless each fragrant one—
 
the cherry blossoms.

 
 

cherry blossoms fade—
 
blank pages in my passport
 
waiting to be stamped

 
 

The cherry blossoms,
 
having no more songs to sing,
 
mutely leave the tree.

 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
when the Flower Moon blossoms,
 
you keep to your nest.