White feathers
stained in sanguine
hold wind's hand
till bathe in the stream.

White tails
and feathered song.
Ambivalent doey eyed.
Does natures charm extend to mine?
A part.

Isles
Careening masses of of basalt
Indignant - they reach up
Like arms stretching
Towards
Billows
Of amber cloud
That dance like irises
Finding not what they sought but what
They love

This morning is not
just a shadow of me.
But a dancing
of the trees.
The bite of a new
unwelcome spring breeze.
My ennui should call
for a falling of leaves,
to dot this sunrise.

Green grass grows where
Leaves once fell.

Even the greatest trees have
Scars unquelled.

Each autumnal passing gives
way to a swell.

So fear neither valleys nor
mourn for a knell.

If I could cup the sun
I would hide it away.
And if I could steal the moon
I would never let it free.

The gardens of the world
can become withered and gray.
And the ancient waltz can stop,
the crashing dance of the sea.

If just for one moment
I can see in your eyes
the shimmering lights
as from beneath the night sky.

Soft - the doe
And jet black crow.
Carrion bird of sorrow and woe
may pick at bone and viscera sew.

But nature's beauty makes two wed
not despite but because of that thread.

The sky's sad soul
Grey and overcast.
The bells now toll
For me at last.

The clouds weep
not once for me.
Shed no tears -
hang just misery.

To cast their shadows
they coo and croon.
Like mockingbirds
of long-missed boons.

Flitting away on
The Spring I lost.
Feather and leaf fall,
As I, too, exhaust.