
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.

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!

Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.

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

bare branches,
in the Winter forest,
look frost-covered.

through a window:
first ripples of a Spring rain
seen on a pond.

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.

through the Autumn,
one tree holds leaves longer,
then drops them faster.

chilly winter day,
prismatic splotch in sky—
no bow, no ring.