a year in review — a haphazard collection of unruly short verse

by Lisa Wilcut

SPRING

blossoms assembling
to view springtime crowds below––
beckoned by sake, smoke and laughter
 

the whole body of the bird on the ledge 
vibrating with the effort of each note
down to its last 
                  tail 
                        feather 
 

in the sunny spot 
on the wide-open verandah
where I was just trimming my nails, 
a sparrow reading the sports page
 

locking eyes 
   with a caterpillar 
       on a cabbage leaf
in a showdown 
over dinner

LATE SPRING / EARLY SUMMER

eyes as flooded as the paddies 
at the beauty of 
scenes reflected there
 

~after planting a field of rice destined for sake:
 

tiny frog singing his heart out 
in a rice paddy sown just today
–drunk already
 

raindrops falling, seeds of sound 
that blossom in the evening
into a thousand froggy voices

TSUYU

~ume shigoto
birdsong leaking out 
    of the June rain–
hototogisu at the window 
       come to eavesdrop on the scent of ripe plums


plum rain’s whispered roar
scent of secrets murmured there
fragrance resounding


like your eyes after a good cry,
the hydrangeas dyed by the rain
a deeper shade of blue

LATE SUMMER / “REAL” SUMMER

lacy shawl of rain
this day has worn since dawn–
she puts away now, bare breasted
to the applause of cicadas 
 

faster than the last cherry blossoms fall, 
the stars––one by one–– 
melt into the dawn
 

sitting out in the garden all night
where did I ever get the idea that 
  somewhere 
there is any line between today and tomorrow?
 

the chickens have eaten half my eggplants again—
a fair trade, I suppose, 
for a morning scramble

AUTUMN

pouring down the concrete steps like an anthill disturbed
––elementary students in matching yellow bucket hat
 

the fruit fly sitting on the moon 
reflected in my sake cup
come to share a drink with me 
 

ginko leaves on the checkered sidewalk–
Horikawa Go Tournament
playing out again in technicolor

WINTER

the lean silhouette 
of sakura’s winter branches––
bare arms elegant against the moon
 

a grace unknown
to springtime ruffles
 

a single strand of
   tinsel
        flutters
on the fir tree at the curb
––
then,
  letting go of the branch,
              riding the wind 
      across the world
 

 ~the 20th night festival at Motsuji
 
 bonfire licks the depths
         of night
 ––sky, dark, taking it all
 more, more! it cries 
         –feed my hungry stars