Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

the rising sun
 hides behind winter trees
  as a fat kid
 hides behinds a fence post, 
 fooling no one.

frangipani blooms
 litter the temple walk.
  sound of sweeping.

a moth, wings tattered,
 basks in the canopy-
  breaching spotlight.

sunrise paints the haze
 the color of campfire flames,
  and nothing looks real,
 but rather like a painting
 by an artist, skilled & lazy.

graveyard trees
  turn crimson in the Fall, but
    hold leaves stubbornly.

in sandstone canyons,
 shrubs grow thick & green;
  no signs of day life.

the last cluster
 of frangipani flowers
  tops a bare tree.

spring green to the right; 
 tawny stalk stubble on the left
  a seasonless dreamworld?

sun to flowers, 
 “now that I have your
  attention… shine!”

a barren tree
 paints dancing shadows 
  on the sandy canyon.