To escape the bite of frost at night
People slide their torso
into tightly made up beds
They wrap themselves
in several folds of wool
Form into cocoons
and lie down,
hibernating
To emerge,
like butterflies in spring !

~~
For anyone
On any given day
Maybe comes back
if the familiar
Tune comes back
Of Spring in the air
In the Last
Stanza
Of Losing Lyrics

Then Maybe
Wrinkle log
In the forehead
Still old wall standing with
Hundreds of Signs
Even assuming that the mind
Speaks the poem in the
Moonlight

Maybe
If again any
Dream Embraces
Floats on the
Rafts of
Autumn Cloud
Towards the Endless

Maybe
On going
Raining of poems
Maybe discovered antiquity of
Any Romantic Creation

Maybe Finds
The Left yellow days
Lying in the mother's lap
Heard the first poem
Saw the Earth within
A new dream

In the compulsive tune
Moves to Far away
Maybe comes back
April, Springtime, Storm
Gets back the Fragrances
Of Mother's body

Maybe
Origin of Eternal Love
Causes of the
Creation of a mystery
~~

Let's get back to the lazy days of summer
Where time stands still
Where we sit in the shade with our popsicles
and ice cream until we get our fill
Sip on some sweet tea and have a little picnic
or lay in a hammock reading with my sidekick
Where we walk around barefoot on the freshly cut lawn
or turn on the sprinkler for the kids to get their jump on
Where we watch the bees and butterflies flit and fly around
and listen to the whippoorwill's calling sound
Once God turns off the light we catch lightning bugs in jars
then lay back with our lover and count the stars
Let's get back to the lazy days of summer
Where time stands still

At yon boundaries are shrubs,
Waiting like unlit chapel bulbs,

Under are flowers also plugged,
Within wet soil, grabbing waters,

Rains once pelted withal seeds,
Into the skies they both breathe,

Under earth, worms wriggle up,
Graduating in swirls to the sun,

On blankets of grass are daisies,
Wildly napping a dreamy breeze,

Thrushes in rushes joyfully sing,
Lilt of lullabies from skies begin,

Songbirds dropping windy hues,
The giddy butterflies justly knew,

What bees do bounces, busy for,
Such patchwork paradise galore.