Have your way with me,
 
mosquito on my forearm,
 
but you won’t live long.

 
 

On a bright blue day
 
some California poppies
 
have their way with me.

 
 

First-of-May surprise—
 
a way opens before me
 
where none was before.

 
 

walking in a way
 
that others have rejected—
 
April solitude

 
 
 

On this wintry day
 
I choose a little-known way,
 
where I walk and pray.

 
 
 

Walking by moonlight—
 
perhaps on the way a fox
 
will stop to greet me.

 
 
 

The way through autumn
 
has been traveled many times—
 
something’s always new.

 
 
 

Mist on the mountain—
 
a starling far from its nest
 
starts to lose its way.

 
 
 

Little by little
 
I make my way through the mist
 
spilled from the mountain.

 
 
 

Did I startle you,
 
grasshopper beside the way?
 
My apologies!