Japan

my kitchen
is a slanty-topped addition
with a tin roof for symphonies
of rain – tympanies and flutes
[sometimes woodwinds in cahoots]
and when the rain is done
that’s when the gulls come
[to complain] but if the downpour’s
in the dark [and I’ve left the window open]
it is easy to imagine I am somewhere
in Japan each time it rains – and a shadow
is a pinetree and another is a mountain,
and the gulls that only squawk at dawn
are really cranes.

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