Chilly autumn days—
 
every yellow butterfly
 
has fled my garden.

 
 
 

Deepening summer—
 
not one monarch butterfly
 
visits my garden!

 
 
 

Triple-digit temps—
 
stones along the garden path
 
hold their heat all night.

 
 
 

Only in a dream
 
does rain refresh my garden—
 
summer’s drought deepens.

 
 
 

The last days of spring
 
trickle out the garden gate
 
like a desert stream.

 
 
 

April’s first mishap—
 
I stumble on a pebble
 
near the garden gate.

 
 
 

On the garden wall
 
a meandering slug leaves
 
a trail of bright slime.

 
 
 

Japanese garden—
 
a child drops one smooth pebble
 
into the koi pond.

 
 
 

The last butterfly
 
to forage in my garden
 
left its breath behind.

 
 
 

In a garden row
 
a forgotten hoe gathers
 
dewdrops overnight.