October’s first day—
 
a few hard green pears still cling
 
to my backyard tree.

 
 
 

Third day of autumn—
 
someone’s left an apple core
 
at the wayside shrine.

 
 
 

Where the river bends,
 
cottonwood leaves turn yellow—
 
first day of autumn.

 
 
 

On summer’s last day
 
we linger over breakfast—
 
unexpected rain.

 
 
 

First day of the month—
 
a sparrow at my doorstep
 
pipes out three thin notes.

 
 
 

Last day of the month—
 
my almost-ripe tomatoes
 
fall prey to a rat.

 
 
 

On an August day
 
I seek respite from the sun—
 
shadows of the oak.

 
 
 

Sunshine, books, and tea—
 
on a languid summer day
 
a taste of all three!

 
 
 

Sizzling summer day—
 
my old, arthritic tabby
 
snoozes in the sun.

 

 
 
 

First day of summer—
 
an old man hopes his grandson
 
will bring some ice cream.