My long journey ends—
 
I seek my little plum tree
 
and rest in its shade.

 
 
 

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

 
 
 

First day of the month—
 
a crow ruffles its feathers,
 
my plum tree trembles.

 

 
 
 

In the oak tree’s shade
 
a homeless man and his dog
 
take a midday nap.

 

 
 
 

My apricot tree
 
has put on its fine green coat
 
to dance with the wind.

 

 
 
 

At half past midnight
 
I overhear my plum tree
 
singing to the stars.

 

 
 
 

In its blossoming
 
the plum tree babbles secrets
 
it kept all winter.

 

 
 
 

As if by magic,
 
on the day before Easter
 
my pear tree blossoms!

 

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
sing to my ailing plum tree;
 
make it well again.

 
 
 

Windy afternoon—
 
chimes hanging in the plum tree
 
howl like feral beasts.