milky way

can I slow down
what time we’re given
to greet mouse-tail moss
the speckled wood who warms
her wings after the rain

a shaft of light
through long shadows
you trace a line
where ghosts of me
still hug the elder tree

mist curtains
one side of the shed
free from light
redshank sleeps whose gold
only the dead can see

an inner sun rises
where cherry blossom blooms
before the moon gate
roots are lined
with tamarisk moss

we weep
to be reminded
of such beauty
and sing of butterflies
no longer here