Carnival at dusk–
Summer slips away too fast.
I stumble off, dizzy.

Rifles behind glass—
Our hands, forbidden to touch,
Silent in their rule.

A hawk climbs the sky,
Into a cloud, snow begins–
Its wings stir the flakes.

They said he was sleeping,
But a child knows better still—
No breath from Grandpa.

A weir dressed in blooms,
Morning glories wrap the stone–
A robe of flowers.

It’s night, a plum drops–
Into the rain barrel’s quiet,
Ripples kiss the moon.

An eastern bluebird
Warbles softly by a brook.
Songs echo between.

Wind stirs pear tree petals,
They fall like snow on my skin.
Years drift with each breeze.

At the hospital,
Waiting for results,
A sick child smiles back, playful.

Unloading melons
The sun cracks in half, and we
Eat lunch from the source.

Plum tree in full bloom–
A divine girl bathed by night,
Soft leaves catch the moonlight.

White mandevilla—
A woman’s face, then gone in air,
Yellow eyes still glow.