Waxing crescent moon—
 
like the oldest trees on earth
 
I cry, “Light! More light!”

 
 

First day of July—
 
a hawk’s terrifying cry
 
frightens wrens nearby.

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

A hawk shapes its cries
 
like arrows to terrify
 
finches and sparrows.

 
 
 

near a snowy field
 
somewhere in western Kansas
 
the cry of a hawk

Desolation

 
 
 

from the gardener
 
a cry of desolation—
 
the plum tree shatters

Gap

 
 
 

a gap in the wall
 
of an old mountain cabin
 
stuffed with raven’s cry

Mallard

 
 
 

in my hat’s shadow
 
taking refuge from the sun—
 
a lone mallard’s cry