a sparrow

adds another note

to a sunrise





ray of sunlight on

a leaf of the camellia;

crescent in the shade



on the sun-drenched shore;

cold sound of pebbles crushing

petals of sea shells



on a mountain pass,

a tiger beetle leads me

through the future path



the river smiles back

in the midsummer sunlight

like a clear mirror



its tail sparkling

like the azure summer sky;

a skink in the shade



a curtain of mist

rises up with the remains

of trees exhaling



the murmur of leaves

and the songs of bell crickets

fade into the rain



on a taro leaf

playing transient marbles,

drops dance in the rain



swaying as it burns,

the white dragon rises up

from the charcoal kiln



in the honey mist

with the morning’s melody,

a black kite circles



a stroke of blue paint

on a light grayish canvas;

it will clear up soon



in the evening breeze

leaves rustle and twigs crackle;

Bamboo's summer song



sparks of blazing fire

scattered around the dark woods;

tiger lilies



a sultry night,

a gecko on the window

relishing the light



dazzling shadow

dashed over the bush;

fishhawk in the breeze



on a rock

in the murmuring stream,

alone it sprouts



fallen leaves

hug each other

meeting old friends



firefly glows dimly

wafting across the river

of the starry sky



waving her hands,

a black swallowtail sends

my daughter off



covered by the heat,

green chestnuts peep

longing for autumn



sunlight flickering,

brushed with shades of oak leaves;

ethereal watercolor



like a pearl

on a leaf in a drizzle,

a snail muses



floating on the ocean

a blanket of tranquil waves

thunderhead as my pillow



the thick earthy scent

brings a summer shower

making me sit back



an egret glides

through the dawning haze

in my head



drops on pebbles

fading away with memories

of a summer day



leaves in canopy

murmur goodbye to neighbors

as the cedar falls



trampled on and on,

dandelion still flourishes;

one day so will we



a cicada's shell

in the shade of kaki leaves;

remains of childhood



the ume leaves fall,

drifting in the wind like

unaddressed letters



cold stream at my feet,

breath of air over my face

like a warm towel




braiding straws makes me

one straw among the vast string

of generations



Nature is poetic, only if we are.