Raindrops
playing tag
with willow leaves

Aren't blogs
supposed to return
after migrating?

Rose petals
and a dead wasp
in the pond

Crush!
on the path at night
a snail

Out of plumb
reaching for the light
Holy Herb

Dusty books
in a dirty window
my reflection

Grandpa's book
and grandpa's eyes
slowly closing

In the city park
bent over a newspaper
two homeless men

Water rippling
when I touch the glass-
my mother's sorrow

gone, back soon

My eyes
throughout the garden
a dragonfly

In the garden
with my mother
being still

Heron
moves
motionless

Her voice
as wide and light
as a valley

A few drops
are still sunbathing
on the window

Young mulberries
my old mom won't even pick
a single one

A grey heron
like a pencil mark
in the meadow

Looking up
from the screen
evening mist

A butterfly
along the cathedral
higher and higher

CFL's
in the chandeliers
of the church

A beautiful girl
in a crowded coach
subway eyes