alone too
a glow-worm sheds
its own light
October 2014
a wood pigeon
in the forest canopy
wings an ancient sound
twilight hush
empty glasses too
brim with darkness
along this path
the way of the ancients
as clear water
birth cry
breathstop
a moon
old leaf rot . . .
from ruptured seed
rising green
outburst of spring . . .
wintering over all
the Milky Way
wind change
birds quieten down
for a whisper
before it
the sound of rain
through the trees
brooding wind . . .
a darkness over the sea
that once was moon
overhead
galaxies swamped
in equations
lake shadows . . .
thunderclouds brood
in the heat
here too
blooms a world of change
last month's tree
rounded belly
the stone buddha smooth
with age
spring blues . . .
I too begin
in bloom
goose bumps—
the yearning within a violin
stretches thinner
the day moon
if it has no voice
may not be
inhaling clouds
and exhaling more . . .
mountain song
out of darkness
and back into it
light-crazed moth
half moon . . .
a loopworm poised
mid-stride
with each gust
a gull alights afresh
on the fence
on a rock
absorbed in a daydream
summer rain
mistreading
a sand wader's
misprint
the other—
a sanctuary light
fills her eyes
there
yes there
its
what is left
after the fall
of shadows
a part across from a godwit's carbon footprint
she who becomes
the apparition
of her scent
freefalling the blossoms sprung
the all the permutations of is-ness
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