He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
bees pace the
narrow blooms of wildflowers,
working like it's play.
the Spring pond
is teeming with tiny fish;
which will see Summer?
it's a seller's market
for snail housing, based
on that cramped shell.
a pond in summer:
ducks look like wooden toys,
drifting leisurely.
a night heron,
up & about at sunrise,
like diehard revellers.
ducks in a pond
drift through the algae,
their track, self-healing.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 