In China, towering spires of green
with pine trees, the fog that hovers
breaks lucid in shades of mauve
blue flame of night's dawn
gives birth to stars, the skies
white snow of clouds,
the evening cranes
that fly above.

wrapped into you, my love,
i cannot be closer,

the rains flood the rivers
with their green
summery banks,

nettles in the dead land,

a hint of the sun,

kisses, unforgettable,
lips made of falling seas.

I have left the desert
to live in forests, under green trees
ruminate, drinking rose petal tea
my sipping cup of salal leaves
always I am watching the beauty
of birds, the wonder of skies
I dream into the disappearing
imagining beyond any ordinary heaven
with wings gathering gentlest winds
soft amid fog and cumulus clouds
coming, going, disappearing
how brief this precious flight.

Wild geraniums collected
in pocket, red painted petal stains
my feet squish, squash in this forest
the earthy mud a mossy sponge
with fern and lichen the trees are hung
upon the ground greening with maidenhair fern
my satchel filled with dainty floral sprigs
in spring the sparrows gathering vine and twig
June's an efflorescent carpeting, soft with lady slippers
in summer the wildflowers and grasses wed
when celebrates all the flying things
wooded bees and butterflies in the sun
sparkling with faceted, glistening wings.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error and upon me proved,
    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.