Penny

even a penny

seems to be a great fortune

lit by the full moon

Hiding

hiding the full moon

in his basket of apples—

the wily farmer

summer full-moon night—

reeds trembling in the millpond

startle Basho’s frog

summer’s first full moon—

among the plum tree’s branches

finding a new home

by the full moon’s light

reading a Buson haiku—

carp circle the pond

laying down shadows

near my grandmother’s gravestone—

first full moon of spring

under a full moon

farmers sowing fields with frost—

crystalline harvest