Mid-September sky—
 
neither a cloud nor a crow
 
smudges the blueness.

 
 
 

Higher and higher,
 
smoke rising from a chimney
 
joins a passing cloud.

 
 
 

Heavy cloud cover
 
muffles the hawk’s piercing screams,
 
yet field mice tremble.

 
 
 

It is no great loss
 
to watch storm clouds disappear,
 
but when plum trees fall…

 
 
 

A great cloud of dust,
 
settling on the thistle patch,
 
tints each blossom brown.

Cloud

 
 
 

A cumulus cloud,
 
shaped like a white stallion’s head,
 
crumbles in the wind.

Meal

 
 
 

in the beggar’s bowl
 
shadows from a passing cloud
 
for his midday meal