a journey too long
 
to make in less than a year—
 
the first plum blossom

 
 
 

I greet the new year
 
with kolaches, black coffee,
 
and a three-mile walk.

 
 
 

First day of the year—
 
the Mexican gardener
 
wakes up before 6.

 
 
 

December’s last day—
 
even the old stone Buddha
 
embraces the change.

Vine

 
 
 

New year, day twenty—
 
another vine needs pruning,
 
but my shears are dull.

Hunt

 
 
 

New year, day nineteen—
 
beneath my barren plum tree
 
sparrows hunt for food.

River

 
 
 

New year, day sixteen—
 
I try to read the river,
 
but it won’t keep still.