The bell rings

children's feet running off

opening the door anyway

Spring garden

all the parents

predators

Somewhere
rain became
blackbird

Spring wind

the still life on the wall

moves briefly

Crush barriers

in the rain

he finishes

Rain clouds-

only knowing

of the moon

Broken

the old brick

bright red

Quiet evening
when I turn off the lights
the moon is turned on

A hail shower-
what remains
my scattered brain

The perfume

of the gardener

"L'Herbe coupé"

Even drizzle

makes the bamboo bow

Monday morning

Every night

reaching for the moon

the old well

His first winter

the garden gnome's cap

a paler red

Down below
in the old well
some stars

The weight
of the morning sun
the stairs creak

A car approaches
the wind through the pines
seamless

Bird song

limbering up

my old body

The yellow
of this rapeseed field-
god was insane

On the table cloth
a few drops of red wine-
all that we left

Strange trees
in a strange garden-
the wind rises

This morning
our neighbour's blossoms
floated past

Entwined

on the table

our key rings

Blackbird egg

a piece of heaven

on the path

Spring rain

in a cistern filled

with meltwater

Hinayana-

in a shopping cart

a Buddha

The pear tree

is now more radiant

than the moon

Morning sun

I'm inside a diamond

of bath foam

Don't touch

those bubbles!

Jacuzzi fart

In the prime

of their lives

blossoms