a frog leaps
before the sound
the light of the water. Re:Basho’

storm flashed thunder clouds
swirling thumping winds,
out in it a frail me

high moon
my absent child
may well look to

the buoys toll
a wave lifts a hand
to raise our yacht

Country road
kicked from its belly
an ancient quartz stone.

Cheap novel
the beach wind flicks through
a few bawdy pages.

Window’s fly speck
coming from behind
the pink glow of Mars.

First buds
pulling her milk tooth
for the fairy.

she leaves the room
an after-image
her red silk kimono

After the storm
in leaves
wattle birds making rain.

Summer breezes in…
a moon falls through
the window.

screeching clutching hawk
a wounded sparrow
its heart still a pump