The Spring Rain in Japan

is light and as short as haiku.
When the rain stops, the blossoms fall
in artistic patterns on the ladies’ umbrellas
through air, rain and cherry blossom scented.
Closing my eyes, I record the image.

Kawase Hasui, Spring Rain in Ueno Park, 1930

Tea in the afternoon under cherry blossoms

watching a hawk descending, We old men

have no regrets. Everything dies in spring

or another season. Lovers and stars part.

Brief seasons are long enough for us

to plant, grow, harvest. Petals like snowfall.