Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

pine scent hits the nose
before i see the trees
and copper carpet

the butterfly
flies no straight lines, but
still finds the flower

autumn moon
rises over the city
before night arrives

brisk graveyard day -
fall hues and cloudless blue
warm lost souls

against blank gray
a bare tree branches
to defy fog’s screen

a crimson tree
stands out against pines
and azure skies

the fire climbs,
changes shape, and fades
until black remains

a stinkhorn unfolds,
drops its gauzy skirt, 
and soon is gone

the snake on the lake
swims with languid grace,
and i run without

a gnarled old tree -
set against a backdrop 
of fanned bamboo