
foggy hilltop:
something moves,
striped by trunks.

foggy hilltop:
something moves,
striped by trunks.

a cloud shadow
dragged over the hill
like a blanket.

nothing moves
on a Summer day,
but sneaky clouds.

sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.

between snowy banks,
a silvery river
slips through cold mountains.

cave hermit
can’t see farmers in fields, just
brown to green to tan.

The Information Age
bloomed & died
from wave after wave
of information inflation
and counterfeit information -
cheap knockoffs flooded
the market!
We live in a
post-information world:
an information junkyard,
to be precise.
Rusting, useless detritus
poses as treasure.
We catch glints
and think it value,
But even turds can glitter
in the Sun.

Ancient cathedral:
pews & altar
long gone.
Cold air creeps
through cracks
to flicker candles,
Candles lit for
those long dead —
though long remembered —
on a cold, winter day.

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

a shade of orange
that doesn’t exist in nature…
yet - there it is!