Variant 20

The bow bends. The bough bends.
The arrow is married to both.

Variant 19

 Pines.

The fossilized shadows of trees
that stood here 300 years ago.
Dark with age and the knowledge
of what came to pass
and what will follow.
Snow caught in the branches
like the desire to forget
and the knowing

it can never happen.

Variant 2

 It is a good day
when the water stays within the riverbanks
and the flame stays in the fireplace.

But for how long?

Bufflehead

Alone. In a narrow slip
of open water the brook's hard work
keeps free of ice and snow,
the bufflehead sticks to itself
or its mate.

No friend
of the mallard or other ducks
they must share what scraps
of open space are available.

Separate but equal.
They prefer

the quiet places
where there is no one
to make fun of

its bloated head, the oversized
target he looks out from
at a world
round,

distinct and difficult
as itself.

After Basho

Seventy-five years
and the pine tree hasn't blinked once.

Our Neighbor

On special occasions
he wears his sash and frilly hat
to indicate he is the representative
of a strange and uninhabited country.
He shuffles through the yard
introducing himself
to each and every tree and shrub
with a deep bow and muttered obsequies.
They say he hasn't been the same
since his wife died. There are children
who live in distant cities but never visit.
The rest of the time he can be seen
sitting at the kitchen table in his bathrobe
staring at the calendar, waiting
for the next day circled in red
to arrive.

Variant, 18

 Look in the forest.
Examine the trees.
Question the rabbit
and the skunk.
The answer
is in a thousand places.

Variant, 17

The grass is sheltering in place.
It's secrets all exposed
to the weather. Rabbits, squirrels,
chipmunks pick through it
like seagulls on a trash scow
or relatives at a funeral.
I am happy to die
so I don't have to hear
what people say of me.

Variant, 16

My friends don't want to leave
but I have nothing left to say.
I can hear the moth tapping his wings
against the back door screen
asking to come in.

Variant, 15

House building tip:
flowers and mountains.

Walls are mountains,.
Windows are flowers

always opening and closing.

Variant, 14

The valley between wonder and doubt.

Variant, 13

Let the wind go.
Abandon your dreams.
Tomorrow is already here.

Hints to Strangers

Avoid eye contact.
In fact, avoid all contact
wherever possible.
Beware of charletons and grifters.
Do not give money to strangers.
Clutch your packages
and handbags close to your side.
Don't talk with a foreign accent
to avoid sounding, well, foreign.
But don't forget
to enjoy

your visit
to our fair city.

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 12

Song about the song about the song
of the imperial castle.
Flowers tousled by the wind
as it sneaks through the valley
disguised as a peddler.

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 11

Baby's freezing,
it's her first song.
She sings while
the cold radiator keeps time
banging on the hollow pipes
deep within the house.

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 10

What is there to commend us
to the grass that sleeps
under the snow? To the trees
hardened to pieces of armor
abandoned on the battlefield?
To the birds hidden within?
What is there we cannot
see? Not know? Or speak of
only in dreams?
Why is the future white
and the past shrouded
in darkness?

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 10

I wonder if there is anything to do,
anything left undone.
The  laundry of the soul.
Letters intended but unwritten,
written but unsent. Written
over and over
then abandoned,
crumpled up
and tossed out.
I wonder
what the world
could have been, what life
I might have taken on
if I did not
wear this one
quite so often?

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 9

If snow covered the sun.
If the earth glowed
with the light of a thousand stars.
If you could hold the moon in your hand
like a potato freshly dug
from the earth, still smelling
of another world
it came from.

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 8

Snow covers the sun.
No clouds, no warmth,
no color. The world
shakes itself
like a dog
in winter.

Variant on Kokin Wakashu, 7 (The Last Fold)

Fold your heart.
Fold it again.
Like two-sided paper:
red on one side, white on the other.
Fold it a third time, a fourth.
Things begin to take shape.
A crane, a mountain,
a boat, a tree covered in snow.
The last fold could explain it all
if you have the skill
or the patience
to pull it off.
Try.