Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

yellow petals
catch the morning light
& glow gold

Pandemic street art
lingers on the walls —
just like its grounds

a butterfly 
sits in the road, until
a car passes

the white walls
of the funerary bath
glow with morning light

at sundown,
the lake becomes
a mirror

bats squeak & poop:
unseen in the dark, but
each sound amplified

a spider scurries
across the sand, without
dislodging a grain

prayer flags hang still.
i hear them go silent
as i sit - eyes closed

sinuous roots
of the silk-cotton tree;
are they moving?

the city's curated 
garden is both more & 
less than wildflowers