After-Christmas rain—
 
greedily my plum tree drinks
 
to prepare for spring.

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
are you composing new songs
 
for Christmas morning?

 
 
 

As Christmas draws near,
 
children keep dreaming of things
 
they know they won’t get.

 
 
 

Four days past Christmas
 
some California mountains
 
wear new coats of snow.

 
 
 

Three days past Christmas
 
I sharpen my secateurs
 
to prune the plum tree.

 
 
 

Two days past Christmas
 
I give thanks for farmworkers
 
pruning the grapevines.

 
 
 

On Christmas morning,
 
the only path before me
 
leads to a manger.

 
 
 

Just before Christmas
 
my plum tree clings to its leaves
 
and won’t give them up.

 
 
 

Twelfth Night ritual–
 
we burn the withered pine wreath
 
and the Christmas tree.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
how many more Christmases
 
can I hope to see?