Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

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.

Winter sun
 casts long shadows 
  through dead grass.