I asked of Nature

Who am I, who should I be?

I asked of Nature.



But it kept moving—

wind through grass,

light shifting on stone, water

down the hill.



There is no lesson here,

it seemed to say.

Be yourself or not—

just let me be.



A Rubaiyat

In smiles you've shared here penning lines that speak
Your kindness, nobly shared, when all is bleak;
In words that soothe as petals from a rose,
Lip-smacking as a drink in Furnace Creek;

In letters that you've sent me, graceful prose
Of promise lining where your spirit flows....
Drunk on your vision, virtues of your will,
I'd love to read the life your eyes compose.

A pebble, but inside your words a hill;
A weed, though in your eyes a daffodil;
Digest my cosmos for my open beak!
Postman's my dealer, your mail's my pill!

Grief

I haul my grief up
The hill to the burping pond
of tears for stiff frogs.