The grass\
not quite high enough
two hare's ears

On her cell phone
counting congratulations
glowing in the dark

The weeping willow
the ashes of her leaves
through her branches

A walker
in the middle of the street
flashing lights

A rock
took out its tooth
this bamboo rake

A handful of leaves
is blown out of the bush
but then flies back

Brilliant cut
by this cold wind
today's morning star

Every day
she's waiting for a butterfly
this white dahlia

Splinters
in freshly cleaved wood
their impotence

Fall pruning
all my musings
still intact

The roses
in the autumn bouquet
bursting with life

Rain
disguised as wind
in the trees

An autumn leaf
in a spider's web
that is all

Daybreak
the sun and the moon
eye to eye

Sunday morning
a crow croaks
in silence

That low moon
there in my garden
shall I pick her?

The quietness
that only evening brings
and the moon

Autumn leaves
swirling onto the old ashes
in the fire bowl

Evening meal
her only company
the lamp light

Before dark
counting his sheep
from the fence

A molehill
on the palace lawn
beauty spot

The stillness
now the rain stops
Sunday

An angry teen
raking leaves from the path
against the wind

Bowing
for autumn leaves
a young rose

After her divorce
with an old hedge trimmer
tackling the hawthorn

An empty house
only this moonlight
is living there

From his armchair
the old forsythia
in second bloom

More and more leaves
fluttering on his car roof
since she left

Morning sun
shining through the fog
a friend in mourning

Autumn sun
butterflies fluttering drunk
from a rotten pear