thunder yon
Zambezi rafting
greenhorns beware
cataract
water wind-misted
plume-zone green
terraced hill
rice paddy cascades
depth perfection
dry season
murmur to trickle to
fall-less falls
level rising
the overspill rolls
pulling drops
offset prints
bisected by tail drag
lizard sign
gnarled driftwood,
snake skin, rusty barbed wire
in red sand
cold morning,
the rising fire ball,
a silent knell
red sandstone
warmed by the rising sun
gorge aglow
yon mirage
mirror-clear blue,
chase the lie
mossy trees
in a foggy forest
eery squared
split oak tree
hollowed by water
chimnified
a lone tree
sits atop a green hill,
solemnly
distant trees
resemble a painting
not a true grove
Source: NASA
wind-whipped ash
swirling in an eddy
light as snow
ash flutters
from a darkened sky,
piling, drifting
the path made
by footprints tracked through ash
tells a story
volcano,
spewing ash cloud skyward
mushroom top
grazing sheep,
loitering head down;
what awes them?
rice terraces,
disguising man’s order
in nature’s green
ripe wheat,
bobbing in a breeze —
sea-like moves
on a range
that stretches beyond sight
but not mind
tea plantation,
a snake slithers through
amid the pickers
shaman staring
out into the distance
a world away
hawk on the roof
twists its head, pointing
one eye groundward
cow head fixed
as a raucous world screams —
blind or unmoved?
what’s it like
to have one’s blind spot
to the front?
the sad moment
when baby’s smile is found
to be fart fueled
on a fence rail,
i saw a scorpion —
dead, but menacing
a dog nudges
its dead companion,
whimpering
after life,
no one contemplates the
Afterlife
grasping the sword
like nothing depends upon
everything
when you accept
that you, too, will be food,
death holds no sway
orange sunset,
casting the lake afire,
cooling to dusk
gibbus moon,
fooling so many souls
who thought you full
shadows thin
as the sun creeps higher
then fatten
tugging seas,
the moon’s unseen hand
is at work
waterfall,
too high to flow, stretches,
hanging mists
crawling snake
in undulating glide
lazes through
taiji lady
does she drift slowly, or
slow the world?
gravity grabs
and slings a comet
soft hand unseen
glazed stone
water rolling over rock
sculpting pebbles
amid ruins,
sitting on a worn stone,
knowing ancients
valley below
suggested but unseen
who hauled water?
dry stacked stones
placed with precision
by masters
jungle swallowed,
spreading like a fire, but
imperceptibly
tell me, Old Stone,
what secrets did you witness
post-chisel?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 