Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

soft, round hills
under cottony clouds, yet
the hike is so hard

clouds top the green hills
and threaten to spill over,
but never do

a flying fox
circles in mid-day light:
its prey, diurnal fruits

the lake is glassy;
half rippled / half frosted,
and yet one lake

giant stag beetle
with broken antler and limp
still freaks me out

the bungalow’s round
angles & odd proportions
make fairytale look

i see a horse,
and hear a banjo tune,
but don’t imagine…

once majestic,
tombs of ancient kings
reclaimed by nature

rumpled beauty:
chaotic but bright,
purpose unknown

a stooped farmer, 
fingers in the soil,
forgets back pain