Last day of winter—
 
over cups of strong coffee
 
we share poetry.

 
 
 

Winter’s last full moon
 
settles on my neighbor’s roof
 
like a fat white cat.

 
 
 

Plums ripe for picking
 
appear only in my dreams—
 
deepening winter.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
I dream of yellow roses
 
blooming at my door.

 
 
 

Dark winter clouds part,
 
tantalizing me with blue,
 
before the storm starts.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
the orchards and vineyards keen
 
for their stolen fruit.

 
 
 

Unharvested fruits
 
shrivel on my apple tree—
 
deepening winter.

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
over some frozen roadkill
 
two crows are squabbling.

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
the book I can’t bear to write
 
keeps writing itself.

 
 
 

On this winter day
 
I remember the old man
 
who taught me tree-talk.