Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

butterfly,
at work on a flower.
a bird circles

clouds creep 
as the river glides.
nothing is rushed

the desert runs
all the way to the lakeshore,
where it - surely - ends?

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