Even though I know
every note of the old songs,
my tongue turns to stone.
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Note
terracotta pot—
on its broken edge one note
from the blackbird’s song
Scribbling
on a blank note card
scribbling one line of haiku
with a bright red pen
Woodpeckers
Even woodpeckers,
at one thin note from the wren,
stop their hammering.
Journeying
journeying by night
with neither lamp nor candle
one thin note of joy
Flute
one thin note rising
from the old monk’s bamboo flute—
hibiscus blossom
Note
in this mountain spring
windsong and watersong meet
mingling note with note
