I fear’d the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair & true,
And my sun it shin’d & shin’d,
And my wind it never blew.
But a blossom fair or true
Was not found on any tree;
For all blossoms grew & grew
Fruitless, false, tho’ fair to see.
prow points seaward
in widening channel;
geese pass overhead.
Spring’s arrival
brings lush, green grass;
livestock keeps it trim.
tree, wrapped in vines,
shape broken & trunk hidden;
an attempt to blend?
mountain trail:
kicked stone sails, then drops...
out of sight.
hermit climbs the hill:
clouds mask his ascent,
obscure the cavemouth.
unfurled buds,
not drooped to gravity,
tell Spring’s story.
Ancient temple carved with features:
Beasts, men, gods and mythic creatures.
Imagine my surprise when I
Came face-to-face with this lil’ guy.
The lizard did his level best
To stay stock still with puffed-out chest.
To pass for a chiseled dragon,
But couldn’t keep its tail from waggin’.
trunk splits to branches
that stretch to the edge
of oxygen’s crossing.
understory thrives:
light plants & shadow plants
each finds its place.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 