I walk through the groves and the singing treetops
silence enrobing every sound, in these places where
people lay still living, under the ground,
for here the grass grows the greenest
and the trees all stand tall, yes
they are gone, but they did not long fall.

The rose,
Staid on the porch rail,
Was forbidden in the parlor.
First frost arrived,
Enrobing petals in velvet,
Crimson thick and skin softened,
Bewildering. Those who stroll by
Behold,
But not take —

Who could handle
The scentless spectacle
Spoiling inside?

A private decay in a white blanket tomb,
A fading in a deafened hollow.
Next year the neighbor will plant
New roses to surrender.

Let the snow petals fall around me enrobing me in their greatness, the sweet succulent scent of cherry blossoms emerge . My heart quickens to the excitement of the birthing spring near.

Perpetual gleams,
         enrobing the morning
peering beyond the reach
             of any sight.
dissipating hangovers
                of a ceaseless twilight.

A motion of eternity,
a sphere forever collecting  
                              distances
that will for moments
                                   be loved
by two silhouettes of a universe.

We contemplate the lights
            adorned above our gazes,
There moments  
                             many past,
    but still we admire the clear breath
          of darkness as we peer
  momentarily past its haze into the light.