milky way

a book of love poems
filled with pages
out of the hidden life
of a young pine
cut short

the way light slips
around a tulip leaf
drifting downstream
a halo even God’s saints
would envy


Remembering Thay Nhat Hanh

For now, the forest shelters us from the drizzling rain. With each droplet, the surface ripples and rests in the blink of an eye. The fallen leaves drift on, numberless. And beneath them, reflected deep in the sky, their companions on the trees will soon take their final somersault to earth.

and now he continues
into the eternal present
how bright
this red-gold maple leaf


America, the beautiful

spread cream all over
the gingerbread
rising and rising
snow-rimmed Sierras

wire hangers
bent out of shape
and strung together
the string theory
of desert highways

white fire
scattered across
boundless prairie
in each pothole
the autumn sun

picking swatches
out of the sky
mall catalogue
the gold and jade
of farm country

koi, radiant
and rose-gold
welcome me
home . . .
Shenandoah skies