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
Startle
summer full-moon night—
reeds trembling in the millpond
startle Basho’s frog
Home
summer’s first full moon—
among the plum tree’s branches
finding a new home
Reading
by the full moon’s light
reading a Buson haiku—
carp circle the pond
Shadows
laying down shadows
near my grandmother’s gravestone—
first full moon of spring
Harvest
under a full moon
farmers sowing fields with frost—
crystalline harvest