Morning garden speaks,
No news like daily rushes,
  .  .  .  Throngs of thrushes.

High sails **** doldrums,
Late sun shrouded in white clouds,
  .  .  .  Eagle low in sky.

Little divine pond—
Preyers wheel, flyers catch, drone,
  .  .  .  Water lilies open.

Outside is temple—
Soft chanting snow fall, pure white,
Crystal mandalas.

Long now she asked
how,
could be,
what,
it was,
why,
it had
to be.
Years went by
questions scattered,
sigh,
answers came by
furtive, incomplete.
Wrinkles deepened,
mind heavy seeded
solution none.
Day came,
she decided to rein
what she had
what she was,
enough to be
for now,
enough.

When I look at her—
This girl is only my friend,
But eyes betray me.

Light — splits as it shatters,
Mundane comforts failing,
The souls' world in tatters,
I wake to nothing— railing.

My window frames me in reflection,
I gaze out to the snowy mountains
Beyond myself, yet before such places
You have run to, it has been so long,
Now comes another new winter, I see
Snow drifts reaching, winds to the sky,
High atop the autumn white mountains
Paler than loneliness, white as my hair.

A child pools her eye,
Bumble bees swim low in sky,
  .  .  .  Flowers cup the air.

We walked in silence,
Into a field after woods,
Suddenly— the moon.

Younglings, you must dance,
  .  .  .  Bask in the river of days,
Water streams with light.

In the dark room
Sparks fire—
Whispers of the sun
And silence blankets the sky,
I was born amongst the ruins
Of gentleness and wounded love,
By the dug kurgans of the Amazon,
The brands of rains ever burning
And foils of hope, fated, turning,
An outer beast eyes and howls,
The merciless stars ever sweep
And cowl in coldest sparkle flame,
Merest minded words, fainted, stab,
Drop in the down volumes of space
Evaporating under the brooding
Mortal emptiness.