glare ice
the old dog
pees on the moon

sun-bright morning
dragons of factory smoke
dissolved by wind

after all the things
that have gone wrong —
plum blossoms

I find myself
losing the trail . . .
greening woods

spring cleaning —
my daughter finds the key
to the music box

wind blown snow
a ewe’s cry
in the night

mild winter
the shore ice
releases its litter

measuring a life
from crocus
to crocus

songbirds returning . . .
the tunes my father
would whistle

trail frog
the children
jump back