the tea in my cup
 
diluted with morning light—
 
autumn solitude

 
 
 

To the fading light
 
of an autumn afternoon
 
a crow gives its voice.

 
 
 

Dewy spiderwebs
 
shimmer in the morning light,
 
to a child’s delight.

 
 
 

On a sagging fence
 
a dove calls out a greeting
 
to the morning light.

 
 
 

Tell me, sister crow,
 
now that Christmas Day is past,
 
does the light still shine?

 
 
 

From the sun I learn
 
a narrative of darkness;
 
from the raven, light.

 
 
 

An old stone lantern
 
in the Japanese garden
 
fills with leaves, not light.

 
 
 

Morning’s first strong light—
 
a crow imprints its shadow
 
on my backyard fence.

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

Crack in the pavement—
 
one golden dandelion
 
lights my homeward way.