
white blossoms
seen through still bare trees:
looks like fog, sans fog.

white blossoms
seen through still bare trees:
looks like fog, sans fog.

creek that trickles
through a stark winterscape —
days from riverhood.

sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.

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

So many hills I have seen
That grow so soft and thick and green.
Though jagged rocks sit down below
The grass and shrubs and weeds that grow
Through cracks and gaps, in mud patches --
Sprawling wide from tight-knit batches
That stone cannot constrain or kill.

Spring rains stalk up
behind a bald mountain;
a brown flood flows.