Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

butterfly,
at work on a flower.
a bird circles

clouds creep 
as the river glides.
nothing is rushed

the desert runs
all the way to the lakeshore,
where it - surely - ends?

yellow petals
catch the morning light
& glow gold

Pandemic street art
lingers on the walls —
just like its grounds

a butterfly 
sits in the road, until
a car passes

the white walls
of the funerary bath
glow with morning light

floodwaters rise.
peacefully drifting
around the calves
of those in search 
of things that float

at sundown,
the lake becomes
a mirror

bats squeak & poop:
unseen in the dark, but
each sound amplified