I can see the love in a flower
the foraging of a Bee

a Sunrise and Sunset
Noon and everything in between

but the love they all point to
is beyond all wildest dreams

a love in love with creating
a love holding all in being.

For her
he was always the man
on the other side of the table.

He was fond of it that way
so he could see her face
read the shades and lights
crack jokes through the grim times
when on the table was little
brimmed plenty in their hearts
and her tears when flowed
were not of unfulfilled needs
but a happiness she couldn’t grasp.

She doesn’t know
what she misses is love
or a mere habit.

She only knows
food doesn’t taste the same
without the man
on the other side of the table.

it seems we got it wrong
in reverse
man made god in his own image

When the chill was on
and light, a fluid movement,
I heard a hornbill...
then its echo...
muted.

Frogs vociferous
as night rain leaves—the loudest
must be tortoise-big!

No, no, not this tap—
ants busy winter hoarding
yesterday's tidbits.

                             Who, knee over the knee,
                             in my porch on rainy morn,
                             reads the newspaper?

Step lightly beneath
this cherry tree—feasting time,
seven nightingales!

                             Keep those gates closed please...
                             don’t you see?--
                             ants troop dancing on its top!

Rainclouds gallop high
fast we run laughing, panting...
who will reach home first?

                             On my palms the kitten
                             purred, snuggling—pulse
                             upon beating pulse
                             we purred.

Slumped the mahout sleeps
astride the tired elephant—
festivities done…

Knock knock knock!
A speckled moth!
Wanting to come in!