the moon blues the snow

stones stumps and posts stand steeped in night fields

shadows form words to a silence that breathes deeply within

in the hearth the maple waits for flames to braid

each log will catch and ornament the air with twists of smoke and fire

all this until nothing is left

we destroy
but know nothing of real power

we repair
but know nothing of real love

tokyo holds
tightly then slowly unfolds

its maple reds and ginko golds
well into the december colds

the crows of sapporo
so

easy through the falling snow
call out the truths we already know

when death comes
it will not be the patient ground
that opens up to hold us

it will not be the restless sea
that reaches out to collect us

it will be the wind
that finally takes our names
spins and shakes them apart
tossing them into infinite sparks

are you accepting of this?
are you prepared for this?

the seasons wheel away
and so must we

late to the day’s last light
seeding well beyond

these speeding windows
colors scrape unrestrained

a display
matching exactly

the leaves that still linger
with a tight fist

december clings
to such untouched things

all that is grey
will eventually give way

and deliver snow
but this we already know

when to hold on
and when to let go

all morning
the cold mists

jeweled tiny pools
upon the stubborn grass

of december
silvering

a single blade
a single strand

of a spider’s web
simply sparking the grey

of the day
away


life can be like that sometimes


obstinately one side
of the coin

one minute
then joyously the other

one secret second
later

i like most things


the green feathers
of the parrots

a thousand shingles
of autumn light

long rugs
of snow


                                              i
                                              like most things
                                              will only be here


for that pullpush
of breath

the briefest brush
of the sun

a tremble
of rain

it rained today
and what remained

of the leaves steeped
in the cold november shower

seeped
and stained

the dark
of the wet sidewalks

such
is the clutch

and release
of power

the transfer
of light

within the sky
such

is how we hurt
and heal