milky way

primordial hum
in the Buddha garden…
morning rain                           

lost in plum blossoms
the sound of a bee                       

tupelo wine
my sudden laughter
as we tango                                  

a pause in our footsteps
on the wooden bridge                

dormant evergreens
beneath the weight
of the Cold Moon                                

deep snow in the city
the homeless man's dream           


morning traffic 
outside the coffee shop 
two friends chatting                         

a balmy breeze, your scent 
through an open window                   

on a park bench
where lovers once kissed 
rustling leaves                               

a spotless fawn listens 
in a field of golden wheat                  

Gilmour's guitar solo   
the eagle's long flight
over a sunlit stream                         

spilling over the edge
the youth of a thousand years             


bear claw scratches
in the old oak tree…
traces through my past                    

into the deep cave 
echoes of a storm                           

gilded age
she changes her name
to Moonchild                             

loud summer wedding  
the march of ants                      

on temple steps
signs point the way
to purification                     

steep mountain trail…
the monk's silence                 


rock concert 
the river ice melts     
into a song                                         

from the center of two flames
midnight blue                                

our first hug 
on a long journey
the blur of a train                             

dissolving in the overstory
all the straight edges                          

oat stalks sway
around a rusted tractor 
Harvest Moon                                  

evanescent shadows
a turn in the labyrinth                             


steady drumbeat… 
through a canyon                                 

a trumpet solo's fading note
summer sunset                                 

sunken treasure
kept in eternity
the day’s remains                      

grandma’s ashes…
the first day of spring             

in a meadow
of daffodils
will we meet again?               

dim lights on the horizon
the endless sea                         

Michelle Hyatt, Canada
Jacob D. Salzer, USA