time
things are unfolding
flower buds appear
then petals open
time keeps unfolding
now
everything moves toward dust
time seems to unfold backward
am I becoming the dust
just a petal
time
time
things are unfolding
flower buds appear
then petals open
time keeps unfolding
now
everything moves toward dust
time seems to unfold backward
am I becoming the dust
just a petal
time
buds curl inward;
last year’s blossoms
fold in on themselves,
becoming memories.
only a
lilac tree could hold these lessons
with
such bold defiance.
blossoms
so close to blooming,
and last
year’s buds are only memories now
it’s midday.
i empty the used coffee grounds
from the press.
it’s too late now for
another cup.
i carry the
grinds to the compost;
walking barefoot through the grass
the air is thick with humidity
the lawn
feels damp underfoot.
i pause, gaze upward,
shielding my eyes
from the sun.
above me,
one thin wisp
of cloud.
it seems adrift, out of place.
can you see this?
wherever you are,
can you see this?
the shape of the cloud
is so feminine
in shape;
voluptuous, round,
gesturing in a way that is both crude
and shy way.
can you see this?
i feel out of place.
here in the yard,
on the grass soaked with humidity.
can you see me?
wherever you are,
can you see me?
i stand there until
the cloud
melts away into blue,
a rich blue,
a humid blue.
wherever you are,
can you see me?
rainwater pools
on
the field
reflect
the sky
and the setting sun
they glow with color;
from
one surface to another
crimson fading into violet
and then night falls.
i began to wonder
about the melody
you sang
then
the bird became
quiet
a cloud
too graceful
to be gray
what do i know
about grace
There is
a tree,
it is passing.
it is
dying.
I won’t call it sickly.
It isn’t.
It stands quietly,
Its branches reach out,
still strong,
stretching out into
the sky.
It lets its leaves fall.
So in love with
this moment.
it will
let this last forever.
A tree stands and waits with patience.
Its trunk is full of gnarls,
like the fingers of an old person.
It stands, faded by the sun,
having seen many years go by.
Days and nights
move around it.
We look up at the blue sky,
so rich and clear,
and sometimes forget what we truly need.
We forget to be patient
Get out of the way
old tree!
I want to see the sky.
But the tree remains patient.
During the day,
it marks the earth
with the movement
of the sun
across the sky,
never rushing,
just letting things be,
moment by moment.
At night, it stands
almost like a guard,
keeping watch,
waiting.
It never complains,
You are gray today,
bring back
Your blue sky!
If it cannot
mark the earth
like a sundial,
it simply waits,
gnarled and old,
just as it did yesterday
and as it will tomorrow.
the gardener is working
in the earth
and a child calls
for his mother
i woke up to blue skies
and noticed how gently everything moved
as the pine trees swayed
out on the horizon.
my tea is black
rich and strong
i try to sip it slowly
the mug is hot
against my lips
i do not remember
if yesterday was the same
or if the day before
was any different
now, i’m not sure
if it even matters
today the sky is blue
tomorrow it might be
dark gray all the way to the horizon
and when the gray
stretches on and on without
any definition
i’ll remind myself it doesn’t matter
and that tomorrow
it might be deep cerulean
endless from the earth
to the heavens