Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

at sundown,
the lake becomes
a mirror

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

a spider scurries
across the sand, without
dislodging a grain

prayer flags hang still.
i hear them go silent
as i sit - eyes closed

sinuous roots
of the silk-cotton tree;
are they moving?

the city's curated 
garden is both more & 
less than wildflowers

red tile roofs
line the valley, between
 velvety hills

autumn.
cloudless skies:
cool blue

one coffee plant
sticks out while all others
fade into dusk

in the savanna,
a butterfly finds one bloom
amid the dry plants