My journey begins
 
while the snowy plum blossoms
 
fade and waste away.

 
 
 

The Snow Moon’s long gone.
 
The days are a bit warmer.
 
Daffodils appear.

 
 
 

By the falling snow
 
the little woodland voices
 
have been hushed for now.

 
 
 

Snow fell at midnight.
 
The waxing moon was hidden.
 
You forgot my name.

 
 
 

First week of the year—
 
no snow in my yard, unless
 
you count white roses.

 
 

My next-door neighbor
 
never deadheads his roses—
 
petals fall like snow.

 
 

Unexpected snow
 
crushes my friend’s daffodils—
 
why shouldn’t she weep?

 
 
 

With its rasping voice
 
a crow shakes an inch of snow
 
from the cedar tree.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
enticed by snow-free pathways,
 
I go exploring.

 
 
 

February snow—
 
how fruitless to start singing
 
cherry-blossom songs!