Days

.

1

The world is still and quiet through fog.
A spring day begins.
In my hut, there is everything.
Outside, a three-foot garden.
A creek trickles past
under concrete.



2

A hand ball
wet with spring rain
makes a wet
bounce mark
on the wall.



3

I have heard the call
of the spring wind.
Sparrows are chirping
in the light evening rain.
Hearts full of fears,
they fly up and down.
Sneezing, why do
I lose sight of them?

4

It’s the long morning
of spring,
whittled down
by the spring rain.



5

A spring night.
Lighting the candle.
I went out and swept the garden.
The cats kept on sleeping.
A mad woman was out there
in the street,
screaming things
in the spring night.



6

As we grow old
even the length of the day
may make us wet-eyed.
Deep grief
for the nature of things.
We walk single file
along the railroad track
in the wildflower field,
by the sandy beach,
in the short spring night.

Strawberry Creek by Gilman Hall, facing East: photo by Coro, 2009
American tree sparrow (Spizella arborea): photo by dominic sherony, 2009
Wildflowers: Alberta wild rose, Western yarrow, Bluebells, Heart-leaved arnica, Red paintbrush: photo by Dwindrim, 2004