After winter rain
 
a brand-new penny glistens
 
on a sun-drenched street.

 
 

Little desert dove,
 
although the sun is sizzling,
 
you pour out cool songs.

 
 
 

My desires are few:
 
some sun, some coffee, and you
 
on a winter’s day.

 
 
 

On an August day
 
I seek respite from the sun—
 
shadows of the oak.

 
 
 

Sizzling summer day—
 
my old, arthritic tabby
 
snoozes in the sun.

 

 
 
 

Beans of the mesquite
 
gestate in their long green pods,
 
nourished by the sun.

 
 
 

On Easter Monday
 
I plant a few melon seeds
 
in a sun-warmed place.

 

 
 
 

With spring on the way,
 
I dream of carrot seedlings
 
reaching for the sun.

 
 
 

From the sun I learn
 
a narrative of darkness;
 
from the raven, light.

 
 
 

Last day of the month—
 
on my sun-warmed garden bench
 
a feral cat naps.