Grown about by Fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
Where the clear winds blow
And the shadows come and go,
And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
Those two black infinities
Between which our brief life
Flashes a moment and goes out.
Of Glory not a Beam is left
But her Eternal House --
The Asterisk is for the Dead,
The Living, for the Stars --
the wobble & flicker
of candle flame animates a
face carved to stillness.
the early blooms
are wilted; they’ll be gone when
the tight buds open.
In the forest, I saw a deer;
It sniffed the air with urgent fear...,
And then resumed its feeding,
Finding the threat of me misleading.
Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,
The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew,
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.
the low morning sun
burns through gray clouds; the
still lake looks iced over
The Black Mamba is not black...
Well, it's black inside its mouth,
But if you're getting that view,
Things have definitely gone south.
The morns are meeker than they were --
The nuts are getting brown --
The berry's cheek is plumper --
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf --
The field a scarlet gown --
Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 