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.

 
 
 

Rain after midnight—
 
my neighbor’s terrace glistens
 
in the street light’s glare.

 
 
 

First song of autumn:
 
a golden plum leaf trembles
 
in the fading light.

Border

 
 
 

At the border fence
 
a migrant lights a candle—
 
all her hopes and dreams