
sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.

sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.



cave hermit
can’t see farmers in fields, just
brown to green to tan.


a shade of orange
that doesn’t exist in nature…
yet - there it is!

Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.

The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.

So many hills I have seen
That grow so soft and thick and green.
Though jagged rocks sit down below
The grass and shrubs and weeds that grow
Through cracks and gaps, in mud patches --
Sprawling wide from tight-knit batches
That stone cannot constrain or kill.

chilly winter day,
prismatic splotch in sky—
no bow, no ring.