In the interest of taking credit for every single one of my kids' accomplishments, I can't help but note the influence of Tu Fu, whom we have been reading in Kenneth Rexroth's 100 Poems from the Chinese, on her recent writing. Here is Tu Fu:
Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond -- white birds blaze in flight.
Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant
And here is one of June's, from the "poem book" she has been typing into the computer lately. It's nice:
The breeze and the wind brushed through my
hear as I fly a red kite.
The fall air is cold but I’m worm
I think June's compares well, considering that Tu Fu had a 1000+ year head start.