Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

a tree burst through 
the old building’s brick wall,
and sent roots searching

born in struggle;
the chick pops from its shell
and must fight to its feet

passing hazy hills,
i sway with the train,
mulling reality

momma langur
looks like she’s saying,
“lean into your hammy!”

banyan roots
intertwine like snakes
writhing in a pile

clouds, pulled & rolled
like fine webbing, glow in the
conch-orange sunlight

water lilies 
align in a window
in the foliage

the desert sun
sets over the lake, 
and all is gold

staggering
through a black cave, & then
a shaft of light