Cold wind. Mt. Fuji turns red in the sunset.
Draw close the collar and hurry home.

Snow mingles with rain, wetting my hair.
I mutter to myself that flowers are past.
One more day swinging in a crowded train.
Coming and going, friends and strangers.

At Sumida River, eating and drinking under the fireworks.
Moonlight shines over the city boulevard.
Whose husband, whose child, walks under the buildings' shadow?
Head to foot in grey suits.

Garbage cars convoy toward dawn clouds.
In the empty lot a lone dandelion blooms.

~February 1996~