My father once drank
 
from the cup that I now drink—
 
deepening autumn.

 
 
 

After-Christmas rain—
 
greedily my plum tree drinks
 
to prepare for spring.

 
 
 

On a warm spring day
 
a crow visits my fountain,
 
dips his beak, and drinks.

 

Pond

 
 
 

First rain of autumn—
 
a parched and thirsty frog pond
 
drinks up every drop.

Bowl

 
 
 

plastic water bowl
 
cradling summer’s bloodred moon—
 
old dog drinks his fill

Hose

 
 
 

April afternoon—
 
the Mexican gardener
 
drinks from the green hose.

Solstice

 
 
 

drinking to the dregs
 
my seventh cup of coffee
 
on the solstice watch

Drinking

 
 

drinking from the cup
 
that I drank from years ago—
 
this bitter water

Drink

 
 
 

mariachi band—
 
a little thrush tilts her beak
 
to drink in the notes

Wineglass

 
 

Moon in my wineglass—
 
no matter how deep I drink,
 
it stays out of reach.