
the early blooms
are wilted; they’ll be gone when
the tight buds open.

the early blooms
are wilted; they’ll be gone when
the tight buds open.

the low morning sun
burns through gray clouds; the
still lake looks iced over

a bloom falls to earth;
lit up by the morning sun,
it glows… for a time.

the mountain fog
cannot keep the secrets
of the bare tree.

water parts,
rounding a boulder,
then is reunited.

rain-laden blossom
falls… lands with a sound,
in the mud.

swirled striations
in the pond algae
reflect floating clouds.