Passing
the hours before dawn
weaving my way back home through
the thinnest of light
–
gently becoming
as one with
the winter sky
the hours before dawn
weaving my way back home through
the thinnest of light
–
gently becoming
as one with
the winter sky
jagged windblown sand
making a meal of driftwood
in the desert sun
–
just beyond the dunes
a faint whisper of
false promises
a ring tailed hawk watching
the curve of the crescent moon
emerge from the mist
–
the full moon
silhouetted
against the night
lying in the grass
in quiet conversation
with the fallen leaves
–
mottled sunlight
spruce needles
murmur underfoot
come to me softly
slip off your shoes and we’ll dance
in the evening sand
–
mid morning sun
warm black sand after
the retreating tide
jewel in the lotus
tibetan prayer wheels turned by
cascades of water
–
a winter dawn
snow skates across
the temple threshold
the last vestige
of the sinking evening sun
sets the sky alight
–
painted hillsides
a winding road turns
though burning leaves
a flash of silver
bright water patters and breaks
the woodland silence
–
finally unfettered
carried aloft
on golden wings
as the tide comes in
the quiet surf erases
our mingled footprints
–
salt breezes
clammers digging
in the wet sand
a hot summer morn
in the curl of a turned leaf
the gathering dew
–
a ringing anvil
collecting
beads of sweat