
rounding the temple,
heard: faintly squeaking wheels;
seen: not a soul

rounding the temple,
heard: faintly squeaking wheels;
seen: not a soul


monochrome moth,
but for its yellow cape,
looks pencil drawn


caterpillar queue
marches in lockstep
across the road


rolling stone: no moss?
it thrives in cold, flowing streams
of Himalaya




rimmed with black tadpoles
& roiling with orange koi,
the lake brims with life