the end

by mary c fogg

the end comes
to all things

birds in their
northern flight

waves in their
southern flow

the stars in
their white track

will fall from
the sky like

grains of rice
from the hand

of a dead
emperor

spring

by mary c fogg

the bees buzz
but not so

loudly as
last spring, the

birds return
a little

later, the
river runs

narrower,
heaven and

earth themselves
are consumed

by this great
weariness

winter

by mary c fogg

black branches, fallen to the ground and broken in two over their knees by woodsmen, piled against a brick wall, have already taken the twisted shape of the flames they will feed

whispers

by mary c fogg

in old times before the north men came, i wandered through the long corridors of the great jade palace at midnight, listening to whispers of intrigue against the emperor and i heard many strange things under heaven, things great sages never dreamed now i sit beside my little hut high in the cold mountains listening to the leaves whispering like the young handmaidens and the old generals in the jade palace, o you foolish mortals, cast aside your wickedness greed and pride and listen to the leaves at midnight

autumn

by mary c fogg

a single leaf, blowing in the wind, flying like a golden spark, will be lost in the multitude carried down the mountain imprinted on nothing except my memory

summer

by mary c fogg

the sun is a fierce lord burning the green earth brown ducks float on shimmering water, frogs croak hoarsely under the blue sky, tall trees burn like golden glass on the white mountainside