After Labor Day
 
I dream of next spring’s garden
 
and what seeds to plant.

 
 
 

The distant mountains
 
are singing to me again—
 
Labor Day longing.

 
 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
when no one’s watching, the cat
 
eats from the dog’s dish.

 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
near the hotel balcony,
 
doves make up some songs.

 
 
 

After Labor Day
 
I plant some zucchini seeds,
 
hoping for a crop.

 
 
 

Labor Day’s bad news:
 
ashes from a nearby fire
 
rain down on my car.

 
 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
the morning glories and I
 
have no agenda.

 
 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
we spot the first skein of geese
 
tangled in the clouds.

 
 
 

After Labor Day
 
a smudge of yellow appears
 
on one plum-tree leaf.

 
 
 

After Labor Day
 
smoke-filled California skies
 
choke people and crows.