These shells
smooth or spiny
sandblasted with spots and stripes
whistling flute like
the wind plays through the hollows
singing of shimmering fish and stars
a song of deep water seaweed sways
caressing fields of flowers,
the corals.

The shell
dark water
the drowning wave
of loneliness
at night
no sound
no light
only the
drumming
of your
heart.

Walking through the cottonwoods
along a blue-green sea of reeds
the spring pond ripples
with ducks and coots
glint of red on wings
the singing blackbirds
silver minnows flash by
and wriggle in beaks
of fisher birds, so swift
the time to live
and die.

I am counting things
at night numbers, dreams
hum of a hundred bells
soft harps to soothe
sweet with birds colored blue
in the tiger grass, big eyed cats
twitchy whiskers and paws
they sleep beneath tree limbs
branches wild and gnawed.

Do not wake me
while the garden is glowing
a thousand flowers in rows
I am fixed on violets
hydrangeas indigo blue
with fingers I paint thick
brick in red rose variants
on the lawn peacocks in resplendence
with monde blue-green iridescence
and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.

I could paint these things
though color escapes me
storms prevail, black water
it's a flood I fear
I hold the levee back
clench my heart and all the rest
I think in tremors and waves
then settle and wait for night
dream of ships breaking fog
deep humming of horns, shrill of seabirds
wake me on the shore from sleeping
from waiting for someday
there's a bell that never chimes
only this moment that pulls
brings me ever closer in.

Walking toward the woods
as I grow nearer, an unwinding
crossing the edge and stepping into
a deep scent of mossy loam
breadth of decaying layers
cool washing rains
trickle of days and years
breathe green amid the fog
all worldly cares vanish.