driftwood
polished white
by the sun
was there pity
in such an action

fog takes you

swimming in it

silhouette

then gone

rain on the verge of snow.

my tea lets go of curling steam.

forgiveness;
like the dead tree
felled by 
the strong winds.
it never says,
“you hurt me.”
rather, it says,
“thank you for the dance.” 

there is my tree
i planted it some years ago

when i did 
i let nature decide if it would live

i left it
in the hands of the unknown

now after many seasons
it is strong

stronger than those 
planted with intention and hope

i left hope aside
and it is strong

the toy sword
gifted to me
as a child
rests in the corner
of my room
i am no longer
a child

anger
tears
laughter

tears
laughter
laughter

tears
anger
anger

the gray sky
holds a crow
gently in the
folds of
seamless clouds