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

 

 
 
 

Last day of winter—
 
already dandelions
 
bloom in sidewalk cracks.

 
 
 

End-of-winter dream:
 
I keep waiting for a bus
 
that never shows up.

 
 
 

reading a poem
 
to a Facebook audience—
 
winter solitude

 
 
 

Winter evening rain—
 
a blackbird keeps on flying,
 
bent on getting home.

 
 
 

Yellow butterfly,
 
why do you flit in and out
 
of my winter dreams?

 
 
 

Morning, noon, and night
 
I heat the kettle for tea—
 
winter solitude.

 
 
 

Winter afternoon—
 
smoke rising from a chimney
 
scents the falling snow.

 
 
 

Deepening winter—
 
with longing I remember
 
fragrant plum blossoms.

 
 
 

In one cup of tea
 
I taste the whole world’s goodness—
 
winter slips away.