The sprinklers

Rise from the ground




And they begin in unison

To lend water to parched grass—

A little also to dry pavement.

The mist forms a stream

Trickling kindly into an empty storm grate—

It forms also the clouds which,

Thin, wispy, and opaline,

Frame the near-full moon.


I am sitting in silence,

Very still

So that I might not disturb the wind

Who sits with me,


My efforts are wasted in an instant

By the blithe flickering of a streetlight.

I wonder, now alone,

What the wind might have told me.


The cicada's cry

Rings in my ears and drowns out

My falling tears


The air is cold now—

Too cold—too still—too silent.

I can hear them now.




You sit hunched

Over the sewing machine

As it clicks rhythmically

Your fingers dance—figure skaters

Over fabric.

A knock at the door

A friendly conversation

A pair of jeans

Another job

I watch in awe.


Do you remember?

ハスカップ (1/5/23)

Calloused and wrinkled

Hands gently present a gift.

Fly honeysuckle,

Tastes like the Sun. じいちゃん,

Do you remember?