Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

the wobble & flicker
 of candle flame animates a
  face carved to stillness.

the early blooms
 are wilted; they’ll be gone when
  the tight buds open.

the low morning sun
 burns through gray clouds; the
  still lake looks iced over

a bloom falls to earth;
 lit up by the morning sun,
  it glows… for a time.

the mountain fog
 cannot keep the secrets
  of the bare tree.

I glance upward;
 the mountain seems closer;
  I feel colder.

tropic reversal:
 tawny grass of April;
  lush green October.

water parts,
 rounding a boulder,
  then is reunited.

rain-laden blossom
 falls… lands with a sound,
  in the mud.

swirled striations 
 in the pond algae
  reflect floating clouds.