Through this morning’s fog
 
I cannot see my plum tree—
 
spring melancholy.

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Overcast morning—
 
the next-door neighbors argue
 
from ten until noon.

 
 
 

Overcast morning—
 
the wings of the crow turn grey
 
with a film of mist.

 
 
 

On Easter morning
 
the plum tree in my backyard
 
flaunts fresh white blossoms.

 
 
 

An April morning—
 
finches and sparrows bless me
 
with their waking songs.

 
 
 

Overcast morning—
 
ripe cherries from Mexico
 
brighten my table.

 
 
 

Second week of spring—
 
we sip our morning coffee
 
outdoors near the plum.