the streets are dark --
even streetlamps rest -- but
light spills from the temple.
The Temple That Never Closes [Haiku]
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The light of day's end
brings out the sandy
grit of the arid
landscape.
The light of day's end
matches & compounds
the color of the
desiccated vegetation.
The light of day's end
turns the world
into someplace new --
somewhere I've never
been before.
My body knows this is
nothing like Mars;
my mind does not.

late afternoon sun
penetrates the pavilion —-
causing napper’s turn.

legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.

The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.

understory thrives:
light plants & shadow plants
each finds its place.