Summer morning walk—
 
to amuse himself, my friend
 
converses with crows.

 
 

With strident voices,
 
three crows outside my window
 
revile the rainstorm.

 
 

Plum, your purple skin
 
is not envied by the crows
 
or white butterflies.

 
 

Lizards, crickets, crows,
 
even the old stone Buddha,
 
welcome Easter Day.

 
 
 

A tattered scarecrow
 
keeps my little patch of corn
 
from marauding crows.

 
 
 

On my morning walk
 
three crows keep me company—
 
one calls out my name.

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
over some frozen roadkill
 
two crows are squabbling.

 
 
 

The clouds that were here
 
only a moment ago
 
were swallowed by crows!

 
 
 

Morning by morning
 
four crows alight on my fence
 
for their dog-food treats.

 
 
 

Labor Day morning—
 
four crows alight on my fence
 
for a dog-food treat.