Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

one flower
stands, rumpled & in the rear,
but is just as bright

the river churns;
lit by the mid-day sun --
its foam glows

a sunflower.
the spiral of its florets
claims perfection

in winter,
frangipanis stand bare,
bracketing the shrine

the crunchy snow
of a cold winter's eve --
tomorrow's gray slush

two street puppies:
one with laser-like focus,
one oblivious

sun-warmed rooftop,
clouds down in the valley --
i breathe in bright heights

the sun sets
as we drift down the river,
past grand temples

a charnel house
of sculpted anatomy 
amid the ruins

looking around,
i see no valley floor, nor
the end of the world