Moonlight

light from the full moon
spills through the open window
and pools on the floor

waning
molten silver
moonlight

Daydreaming

the spinning wheel turns
fingers idly making thread
while the mind wanders

adrift
on a sea
of imagination

details

the weathered old man
makes peace with the universe
tending his bonsai

fiddlehead ferns-
seeking god in
the golden ratio

Refuge

silently stoic
the weathered lighthouse still stands
off in the distance

the setting sun
barely visible
through the fog

Peace

the wellspring of souls
beckons inexorably
for us to return

the bodisattfa
compassionately
delays nirvana

Scars

it’s just a small cut
and it’s the last time, I swear
until the next one

self destruction
a trail of history
on my arms

Apprehension

since you got sent home
I’ve been sitting by your side
praying you’ll return

waiting-
trying not
to lose hope

Peace

longing for the time
when there is no one to please
and nowhere to be

cherished,
those few minutes
between calls

Longhand

caressed by the pen
ink and paper combine with
the lightness of verse

liquid words
meandering
into prose

Anxiety

I’m never alone
my ally, my enemy
you’re always with me

ever present
that little voice
of self doubt