Free You
How will I free you
from tedious city life?
Read Basho’s poems
Grapes
When the grapes are ripe,
I miss you, dead grandfather –
then the first snow comes
Marsh
By the tidal marsh
the wind whispers words of salt –
crabs hide in the ooze
Lustrous
Sky like a bottle
what grapes can match autumn’s light
in lustrous sorrow?
Whisper
Like the sweet whisper
of last year’s cherry blossoms –
this fog on the sea
Chuckle
Morning is cloudy
not yet does heaven’s black bull
chuckle with thunder
First Leaves
First leaves of autumn
drifting like boats of burnt earth
on a sea of green
1972-1973