an empty river
 
but for traces of birdsong
 
left among the stones

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River

 
 
 

New year, day sixteen—
 
I try to read the river,
 
but it won’t keep still.

River

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
the river is depleted,
 
but your song flows on.

Tongues

 
 
 

blackbird and river—
 
their constant conversation
 
in different tongues

Beak

 
 
 

in the blackbird’s beak
 
one drop of river water
 
for my gingko tree

Walking

 
 
 

autumn afternoon—
 
walking along the river
 
hand in hand with you

Nest

 
 
 

Where the river bends,
 
there you will find a blackbird,
 
building her first nest.