The morns are meeker than they were --
The nuts are getting brown --
The berry's cheek is plumper --
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf --
The field a scarlet gown --
Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.
Away trots a baby rhino.
It's the smallest rhino that I know,
And, yet, if it trotted on your foot,
Your foot would definitely be kaput.
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.
They say that each and every single fly
Has five thousand lenses in each eye:
A three-sixty view from toes to rump,
And thus I become the fly-swatting chump.
tropic reversal:
tawny grass of April;
lush green October.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 