Autumn morning mist—

I pick my way step by step

through the shrouded streets.

The longest journey

begins with the first small step

toward cherry blossoms.

Winter pilgrimage—

if I don’t post on Facebook,

are my steps in vain?

Autumn morning fog—

I part the misty curtain

to see my next step.

Step by step I climb

each hill standing in my way—

the journey lengthens.

Near the blue dumpster

two women dance by moonlight—

in love, out of step.

Cold

last day of autumn—

a stone beside the porch step

grows cold, then colder

Soaking

Tin watering can—

the rose near the backdoor step

gets a good soaking.

a tiny pebble—

Buddha lodging in my shoe

step by painful step

the bounce in his step

as he thinks of holding her

in their bed tonight