
pink trumpet flowers,
in dense clustered spheres,
break up spring’s blue sky
pink trumpet flowers,
in dense clustered spheres,
break up spring’s blue sky
high tide sweeps
around the beach rocks,
and then they’re islands.
open road mural
triggers wanderlust;
i stop to look.
from a speeding train,
i see a fresh-plowed field
in which nothing moves.
golden trumpet
lives up to its name
when sunrise strikes.
I stared, and stared, into a leaf until my vision changed. And I could see the whole, wide world so artfully arranged. The leaf, it mapped my universe from atom to the sprawl. Compressed, layer-on-layer, there was one and, at once, all. But before I could grasp all that this vision truly meant, a gust of wind did catch that leaf, and fluttering it went.