On a mountain path
 
no wider than a child’s foot
 
Autumn picks her way.

 
 
First sunrise of spring—

a child in a bomb shelter

writes a new poem.

 
 
 

Dewy spiderwebs
 
shimmer in the morning light,
 
to a child’s delight.

 
 
 

See this speck of dust?
 
That’s how long it’s been, my child,
 
since the mountain fell.

 

 
 
 

Where do stones come from?
 
How did the crow get its voice?
 
Why do you ask, child?

 
 
 

Japanese garden—
 
a child drops one smooth pebble
 
into the koi pond.

 
 
 

Summer afternoon—
 
one stray leaf on a park bench
 
delights a young child.

 
 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
more leaves than a child can count
 
drop from the maple.

 
 
 

child’s love offering—
 
a drooping dandelion
 
in a sippy cup

 
 
 

Super Bowl Sunday—
 
in an almost empty store
 
a child smiles at me.