Knob on an oak tree –
I am counting the summers
until I am old.
Moon face
I saw once on this street:
I’m forgetting the name.
One afternoon,
kneeling in the dirt –
ground as hard as lion’s tooth!
No map,
I tell my way by the stars –
who can say I’m fast asleep?
Chrysanthemum
dropping its petals,
a chill setting in!