each droplet
falls from sky to soil
divergent paths
converge to nourish the loam
where the ever-yearning shoots
of an uncertain spring stretch out
to bid the world a hearty
hello.
Tag: seasons
Tanka: winter leaves
Once green and verdant,
winter leaves sit and decay
methodically
on mud-caked concrete, gazing
up at their former glory
January litigation
January
should start a GoFundMe
to hire a marketing expert,
perhaps with social media prowess
alongside a slick-haired attorney
to complain that the phrase
“the dead of winter”
is wholly inaccurate,
its slander
lowering property values.
Autumn sunrise
verdant landscape
beams in
naïve optimism
each year choosing
to forget the sun,
swollen with untempered power;
supple stems stiffen
involuntary camouflage
against once-moist soil
now nature’s adobe
stacked
to the horizon, and
pining for an autumn sunrise
Float
Float, spring butterfly
breathe deep warm winds, swelling up,
lifting you sunward
The Laughing Tree
Beyond knee-high grass
onward to the Laughing Tree
dancing with joyful
autumn colors, ablaze, even
though few ever came to watch
Eternal autumn
Earth,
wrapped in eternal autumn
decays, all that grows, all
that is built, is on the road
to oblivion
falling to the soil
nourishing the seeds of
futures yet unbuilt
for what is autumn
but a distant relative to
spring.
Our unlikely friendship
Each farewell different
the aching darkness stretches
and cowers as Gaia hurtles through
crushing void
seasons turn, reign, die, go back
into the queue
What is a sunburn, but
affirmation that we are alive
due to our unlikely friendship
with an enormous, raging
orb
its inner chaos giving rise
to spring daffodils and year-round
humanity
Thick-set sentinels
A thousand winters
come and gone
thick-set sentinels no longer pay
each more than casual attention;
snowmelt slides downslope,
each rivulet latches to newly-found
kin
their meandering journey to
water’s grand community
has begun
Drinking deep, the soil
run through with the needle gifts
of geriatric conifers
each new sprout could,
if lucky,
grow as old and numb
as the sentinel trees
their roots ground into
the forest floor.
Into the moss
Droplets, eerily clear
fall soundlessly into the moss
each seedling quivers
imposing clouds break to
welcome a cheerful sun
calling for new life.
Unspoken Politics 