Cold December rain—
 
I hear a crow scolding me
 
but cannot see it.

 
 
 

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

 
 

Someone tell that crow
 
to keep his noisy beak shut
 
during my spring nap!

 
 

On a warm spring day
 
a curious crow watches
 
an old dog napping.

 
 
 

With its rasping voice
 
a crow shakes an inch of snow
 
from the cedar tree.

 
 
 

If I had strong wings
 
like the crow or red-tailed hawk,
 
I’d flee from winter.

 
 
 

A rowdy crow cries,
 
drowning out the train’s whistle—
 
winter loneliness.

 
 
 

On Valentine’s Day
 
a crow in my neighbor’s oak
 
croaks out sweet nothings.

 
 
 

A rowdy crow’s cry
 
drown’s out the west wind’s droning—
 
winter loneliness.

 
 
 

Save your outrage, crow,
 
for something more important
 
than the falling snow.