colored in
a trees bend
and a tune

Bare stem on
ground upright--on its limb
the flower-plume.

glasses case
when will it
come back to me

By the roadside
five lone purple flowers
among the clover.

savoring earl grey
my pen rests
between Masters

stone vase so somber rests ducks meet

the rippling end
of the suns reflection
like rain

To wait for the metro
is boring, tedious and cold.
It feels meaningless.
Or is it
a quiet moment
in the busy everyday life
where nothing is required of you
and you can just be?
Enjoy this pause.
To wait for the metro
is to live life now.

To wait five minutes
is long.
But a year of happiness
is short.

Light on the water
the clouds shape
sheening the swells with pearl
before the wave.

How used are my eyes
to the immediate, to the
limits of a bent neck.

The salt and light conspire
to force the challenge.

And I sit here, clutching
them to me, for too often
I have fallen away like
the foam,
retreating, without
in my turn rushing forward
to prove the immovable.

A young man’s stand
for I am yet too young
for wisdom to mean
passivity.

I will force the challenge.

is it more beautiful
the fleeting end
of a rainbow

Once reluctant, my sister
has found the joy in ocean swells
that I promised her,
with the help of a yellow boogie board.

Above clouds shift back and forth
covering the sun, the prospect
darkening to the east.

Sea birds fly near the surface,
their white wings green
from reflecting waves.

The sea is mysterious,
the sky uncertain. But
I watch in this moment
and am content.

sand drawing
gone almost as quickly
as he is