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
Like black-shelled turtles emerging from underground tunnels,
they hide their heads from the rain,
scurry to their assigned dry places,
shake off water, disappear – but for one
blue shell that separates to find ocean.
Women with fancy umbrellas to shade them
make New York City seem more foreign
to me than usual this blue-green day.
An exotic tiger with Chinese red luck
asks me for a photo with her.
Writing the Day 