Variations on 100 Poems (#100)

This old house
is paved with a hundred stones
and weeds grow in the gutters and cracks.
But no matter how old or unkempt
my dreams are older and more numerous.

Variations on 100 Poems (#99)

Some men I pity,
Some men I hate.
But for all its sadness
this world has yet
to turn against me.

Variations on 100 Poems (#98)

The oak trees next to the brook
rattle their brittle leaves in the wind.
No signs of summer left.
It must be the gods
arriving for their evening bath!

Variations on 100 poems (#97)

The seaweed burns red at low tide.
Like my heart waiting,
waiting.

Variations on 100 Poems (#96)

It's not the flurry
of white petals
the wind whirls around
the courtyard
that are dying,
it's me.

Variations on 100 Poems (#95)

From an outcropping off Artist's Bluff
I can see the entire world. Or at least
my part of it. The trees
blanketing the mountainside.
The ants and humans
working their way
from one wilderness to another.
I shade them from the sun
momentarily, with my outstretched hand.

Variations on 100 Poems (#94)

The wind off Mount Yoshino
breathes cold
at night. The village
is filled with the sound
of men and women
turning in their sleep.

Variations on 100 Poems (#93)

If only the world
could stay this way forever:
the fishing boat
fighting the waves
and the ropes holding it
to the shore.

Variations on 100 Poems (#92)

Like a rock in the ocean
hidden even at low tide,
my heart is soaked in tears.

Variations on 100 Poems (#91)

These cold Autumn nights
I pull the quilt tighter
because I must sleep alone.
Outside, I hear a single cricket
telling his story in the dark.
You and me, friend!