California drought—
 
I dream of clear, cold water
 
seeping from a spring.

 
 
 

Final day of spring—
 
halfway up the mountainside
 
a tall pine topples.

 
 
 

Waning days of spring—
 
a surprise gift of coffee
 
arrives in the mail.

 
 
 

The last days of spring
 
trickle out the garden gate
 
like a desert stream.

 
 
 

Final days of spring—
 
morning by morning thick fog
 
enshrouds my plum tree.

 
 
 

Again and again
 
a trackless desert appears
 
in my late spring dreams.

 
 
 

A steady spring breeze
 
ruffles the apricot’s leaves
 
and lulls me to sleep.

 

 
 
 

Cloudless May morning—
 
we mark the last days of spring,
 
longing for some rain.

 

 
 
 

Children laugh and play
 
behind the funeral home
 
on a warm spring day.

 

 
 
 

With a handkerchief
 
she polishes her glasses—
 
now the spring wind’s clear!