Roundels

A plum plops
Into a rain barrel.
Night spills over its rim.

Plum branch
Reflected in a rain barrel
Like a woman with plums.

Before sinking
Even a plum ripples
The moonlight.

Bird singing
Above a rain barrel
Amplifies fair weather.

Plum splash
Rings the bell
Of sleeping rains.

Three faces
In a rain barrel
Like Emperor and sons.

One after another
The water clocks
Of summer rot.

Plumb imperfect
The rain barrel
Rounds out nature.

Moss to the bilge
Sinks a barrel
Deep into summer.

Washing its face
The rain gazes
Into its own eyes.

From the spout
The green wine
Of the sun runs clear.

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