Cold hand of winter

Holds a penetrating palm

On the breast of day

Longing falls like snow

Collecting on the times past

Benumbing regret

Enjoy this brief earth

And your spot of life on it

Savor what is green

The blister beetles

Emerge in the spring to mate

For only one moon

Seasons don’t reason

Heavens spin without rhyming

Nature knows no time

Life is a garden

Forming seasonal blossoms

And tender new shoots

Behold the morning!

Made fine by the desert sun

And the song of quail