In my childhood home
 
strangers’ voices fill the rooms—
 
first chill of autumn.

 
 
 

In the damp shadows
 
of a broken flowerpot
 
a toad makes its home.

 
 
 

Three days past Easter
 
the housefly in my bedroom
 
makes itself at home.

Bike

 
 
 

Deepening autumn—
 
on a rickety old bike
 
a boy wobbles home.

Companion

 
 
 

On the long road home
 
you are my sole companion,
 
little brown sparrow.

Fisherman

 
 
 

Barefoot fisherman—
 
only moonlight fills the hold
 
as he heads for home.

Husk

 
 
 

Coming home at dusk,
 
I find a cicada husk
 
clinging to the door.