winter evening
a light is burning
in the back of the house

winter doldrums
my landlady enumerates
the perennials

winter silence . . .
     another armload
             of junk mail

spring rain
the crumpled obituary
by my bed

mausoleum —
just passing
through

from the teahouse
the smell of must
fallen cherry leaves

fallen leaves —
a line of snails
in the bark fold

swollen stream —
my friend talks about
the cancer

Rain and wind —
in the circle of mourners
one person smiling

Monday morning
ant on the coffee cup
going in circles