Short Poems | PoetryNook

In mountain scrub

In mountain scrub,
the rustle of evening
showers.

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Bringing the moon

Bringing the moon
through my door of black pine:
a water rail.

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Summer rains

Summer rains
plant mountain paddies
with clouds.

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And had he been out?

And had he been out?
Still I would hate to leave
his snowy home.

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Gathering clouds

Gathering clouds
cannot contain the moonlight
in hailstones.

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Far-flowing water

Far-flowing water —
and wild geese sent off
by swaying willows.

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That sound of thunder

That sound of thunder
storming at my eaves —
was hailstones.

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A Bell, alone

A bell, alone —
on a snowy evening,
below a mountain.

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High tide

High tide
breaks up the ice
at shoreline.

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All I waited for

All I waited for:
blossoms, glowing leaves,
then this morning — snow.

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