Languid afternoon—
 
in his lap the stone Buddha
 
cradles butterflies.

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The mercury drops
 
and mud beside the plum tree
 
hardens into stone.

Faded

 
 
 

first day of autumn—
 
in the old stone Buddha’s lap
 
one faded plum leaf

Waiting

 
 
 

waiting for some friends
 
near the morning glory vines—
 
my tea grows stone cold

Name

 
 
 

First day of the month—
 
my father’s name grows fainter
 
on his granite stone.

Mosquito

 
 
 

A lone mosquito
 
in the old stone Buddha’s lap
 
keeps sniffing for blood.

Lap

 
 
 

Little granddaughter,
 
in the old stone Buddha’s lap
 
you sit for a while.