A drunk woman sprawls
 
in a moonlit alleyway—
 
spring melancholy.

 
 
 

In the nursing home
 
I clutch my father’s thin hand—
 
spring melancholy.

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

spring melancholy—
 
inevitable, it seems,
 
when plum blossoms fall

 
 
 

The pedophile priest
 
chooses a new altar boy—
 
spring melancholy.

 
 
 

Unexpected rain
 
drenches kids en route to school—
 
spring melancholy.

 
 
 

After his house burns,
 
an old man sifts the ashes—
 
spring melancholy.