be the blank canvas

are now weeks past their season

trailing a mother

on the wire, one wire

lift into the sky above

revealing true form

a foggy morning

in that space — sans time — sans thought

clouds gather to speak

you drape down – from up

that surrounds us all, will grow

to find what is deep

I am so grateful

merging with the trees and leaves

announce the sunset

the most open paths

you can be a single point

in a silent mind

I see this window

on the floor of the forest

that still my being

evening clouds whisper

that setting sun, warm your breast

on the forest floor

who would have thought that

of dancing curves of sunshine

small bubbly fractals

I see sentinels

locked within is history

nodes of our time here

see generations

could sum the beats of a life

turning in at night

sometimes do you feel

I feel their anxiety

focus of this path

who would have thought that

on the forest floor — I feel

of what surrounds you

I was late for lunch

may it be quiet and soft

branches reach, yearning

sunflowers bow their

lead us to the mind’s wonders

reveal gratitude

perspectives give us

in an ocean of currents

white gives way to green

I saw the sunrise

yellow streaks in my backyard

uncountable, be

be the horizon

the most beautiful pattern

transforming in growth

three-hundred-sixty

might be — organized — perfect

black feathers at dusk

bubbles have been packed

one crow sits; a single Om

the ones that I see