The spring sun is rising
like a golden tear hiding in the eye
Earth and sky thrown into many mellow shades
A treasure to life
The dogwoods flower
as their white petals fall
on those in cool shade
and the motherly embrace of mist
Memories are familiar again-
Heat carried off the Back,
Sweat reunited with the Ground,
as the old ice melts.
The songs of birds and men have but one subject
Presence and Absence
of times like these
The aromas out the window
are hard to remember in the mind,
but never forgotten In the flesh.
I hope I do not die
too late for the flowers
to grow around my carcass,
wearing my body - like armor
I know I travel a good path.
A stream guides the way
humbling the body
into silence
before the passage
Morning is not the only beginning. Notice:
the sensuality of sweat,
and the birth of the moon.
Dandelions sprinkled on the Earth
like a summer snow
returning memories with a childish glow.