Listening to the rain

the truck is the only bass

beneath the color of night

the bridge rained on

at the end of the park

fish in water

looking timid

padestrians coming and going

the grape trellis is budding

in such a quiet peaceful moment

sleepy midnight

rain is falling

on hearts fearful of

time.

Less of the hustle and bustle

of the past

shuttling pedestrians

dead leaves

winter

sun with open arms

quiet street

a crowd of children from school

a game of chess by old men

sleeping barley and roots

sunlight is the key

to lighting up

this mood.

Mottled paints mixed

cold wind on a palette

daubed on the gray sky

where cold wind transits

clouds

a touch of winter

people on the bridge

counting birds

silently.

Great happiness

endless happiness belongs to those who were born

close to the sun

the galaxy can see them

in love

walking

crying

moving around

carrying in their hands

a clock

that comes from the core of a rare earth

greater than all the unknown

more magnificent

the universe

extending infinitely in all directions

a black hole

extending downward

to the invisible

the weightless

living blood flowing

the stars above

the people living in the sky above

dust rejoicing among them

freely

men women and children

joy loneliness and love

floating

maturing

illuminating the sky with colors

they're everywhere

walking loving crying

the molecules in their soul

come from a galaxy

in the sky.

The perspective

of all styles of shapes

stepping on the lines of music

spinning in a painting

in the depths of impression

a postural language

opening into the garden of flowing lines

of a model

surfacing a solitary world

outside of languages.

Time is a stream

an eternal puzzle

purging thoughts into the night

the unfinished lovesickness

before happiness awakes

is just more excuses

to write the moonlight

into poetry.