Vanishing [Haiku]

crossing a clearing,
a deer disappears before
eyes can lock on it.

Octopus [Free Verse]

Eight arms
seeking eight
different states
of being.

Winding sinuously
toward eight
different ends.

Wrapping opposing
limbs around
antipodal objectives,
it risks tearing
itself in twain…

but knows better.

First to Fall [Haiku]

by the green river,
one tree prematurely
takes Fall colors.

Fog by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
 on little cat feet.

It sits looking
 over harbor and city
  on silent haunches
 and then moves on.

Depreciation [Tanka]

in the morning,
 a fresh blanket of snow
  makes the world look new.
 by day's end, it's well-trodden:
  a car driven off the lot.  

PLAYTHINGS by Rabindranath Tagore [w/ Audio]

CHILD, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.

 I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.

 I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.

 Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!"

 Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.

 I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
 
 With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain. 

 In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game. 

Stillness in Flow [Haiku]

with taut anchor line,
 the fisherman's boat looks still
  in flowing waters.

“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why
   I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
 Under my head till morning; but the rain
   Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
 Upon the glass and listen for reply,
   And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
 For unremembered lads that not again
   Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
   Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
 Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
   I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
 I only know that summer sang in me
   A little while, that in me sings no more.

Fish Drift [Free Verse]

With lazy mazy motion
  the fish slips through
   its watery world.

With no apparent purpose
  but to trace out a route
   through dreamland.