From the temple bell
 
a sound unheard by mortals
 
leaks into the stars.

 
 
 

A crack in the glass
 
lets the lantern’s light leak out—
 
my journey lengthens.

 
 
 

Last day of the month—
 
sunlight the color of tea
 
leaks through my window.

Tea

 
 
 

Last day of the month—
 
tea leaks onto the table
 
from my cracked white cup.

Death

 
 
 

first death of the year—
 
the feral cat’s lukewarm breath
 
leaks from her nostrils

Bench

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
shadows leak from every crack
 
of a weathered bench.

Sailing

 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
though my boat has sprung a leak,
 
I am sailing home.

Enough

 
 
 

Even the scarecrow
 
has had enough of summer—
 
straw leaks from his sleeve.

Quilts

 
 
 

from three hanging quilts
 
leftover laundry water
 
leaking on the lawn