
a field of flames
dance in rows of butter lamps
in the dark temple

a field of flames
dance in rows of butter lamps
in the dark temple

mountain magpie
flits from post to post,
skirting our camp

fringed by clouds,
the valley sat under blue —
but not for long

the cattle afar
turn sharp eyes upon me,
and i know they’re wild

rounding the temple,
heard: faintly squeaking wheels;
seen: not a soul

monochrome moth,
but for its yellow cape,
looks pencil drawn

caterpillar queue
marches in lockstep
across the road

rolling stone: no moss?
it thrives in cold, flowing streams
of Himalaya

rimmed with black tadpoles
& roiling with orange koi,
the lake brims with life

dragonfly lovin’
plays out through a high-speed
darting dance