Light, fluffy snowfall.
O deers, we spot you through the
jail windows, do you?
First day of April —
alas, the songbirds are up,
their sweet melodies!
A hearty trilling
waltz through the windows, like a
Chopin concerto!
How does the sky look?
A suicide-watch inmate asks.
Like a — a painting.
Twilight, half-darkness.
Four birds, without any haste,
wind up their quartet …
Small, mauve wildflowers
sprout around a drainage hole,
brightening the lawn.
A young, hale groundhog
transfixes at the sunset,
munching on something …