Paiku

Dirty old snow

Hunched under hedge

Squints at spring sunshine

I lie waiting
For the first bird's song
To scratch the darkness

Cat's birthday;
We celebrate
By not mentioning it

A shadow
And its blade of grass
Pierce the sparkling snow

Ice and sunlight
Clatter down
From the holly tree

Rain and I
Both trying to write
On the same page

I had nothing to say
And didn't
Say it

Evening smoke
The crow's voice
Darkens

The snow has gone
But the grass
Still feels its weight

Inscribed in a snowfield:
Master trudges, arrow-straight
Circled by joyous, dancing dog

Year over;
Didn't step in the same river
Even once

A warm, gloved finger
Has drawn a smiling face
On a snow-dusted tombstone

My frosted shadow
Walking away
From the sun

Geese
Coming west
Carefully avoiding
The sharp moon

Rain, slyly licking
The names of the virtuous
From tumbled stones

I walk the ridge

While my shadow

Walks the valley

White feather
Doubly white
With frost

That drone
High in your silver morning
Is me leaving

It will rain
Why hurry?
It will always rain

Owl talk

Defines
An invisible hillside