Raining on our heads,
raining on the wild iris,
purple more purple.

This small universe,
under leaves, under trees, sky—
up from underground.

At the red wing marsh,
wild daisies, me and my dog,
faces to the sun.

Silver lake and sky,
yellow hawkweed just in bloom,
we keep our secrets.

In the cool morning
wild daisies grow in strong clumps—
a finch sings his heart.

Wild daisy season—
plucked from along the highway,
faces to the sun.

Nodding together,
lupine looks like family,
deciding to bloom.

In the fountain pool,
a single dandelion
makes a double wish.

Their work together,
the ant and the peony,
like roaming the moon.

These pink columbine—
I put sadness on their heads,
fragile and bowing.

Irises blooming—
every garden memory
has a place for them.

The heart's beginning—
it caused me to change my life,
asleep until then.

Evening birds call,
bullfrogs talk to each other,
we walk and listen.

Spring mushroom blooming,
the woods wet with a day's rain,
mysterious life.

The sun falling low,
the peace in this green forest
grows from the ground up.

The limit of words—
a hidden oriole sings,
never ending green.

Just open in May,
Aster with a turn and nod,
along the river.

Lichen blooms today,
the universe is humming
on this ancient rock.

Yellow violet—
the sun and moon change places,
deer families pass.

The greening forest,
Solomon's seal beginning—
wild geranium.