Overcast morning—
 
a crow on the backyard fence
 
blends in with the fog.

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Sunday morning bliss:
 
blue sky, red flowers, coffee
 
in my chipped white cup

 
 
 

Sunday morning blues:
 
instead of a jolt of joe,
 
insipid decaf.

 
 
 

early morning stroll
 
through an old apple orchard—
 
bushels of birdsong

 
 
 

dowdy brown sparrows
 
singing creation’s old songs
 
anew each morning

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

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