I feel all the strands

on the rosemary and frost

listening to birds

revert to a child

the most beautiful pattern

of what surrounds you

you chase in the tree

a thousand poems of you

reaching skyward — up

my cedar waxwing

chaotic origami

in a silent mind

shadows stretch across

pink Clouds wrap around my eyes

in a universe

lichen brings color

like the sound of waves pulling

memories’ bubbles

probability

yellow streaks in my backyard

wispy tufts of grace

He has a paintbrush

asymptote, vanishing point

warmth from radiance

when I’m dead and gone

on dead branches among clouds

be in quiet awe

sometimes we muster

below the grasses of thought

iota of life

you asked permission

place them in your mind’s pocket

that still my being

cumulative drops

settle down in the long light

quintessence being

even the clouds long

of moss, earth, stream, trees, and life

ready to be filled

our feathers tell us

found in every little

detach and then breathe

maybe all our days

gulping berries at sun set

lingers deep inside

cedar waxwings flock

that provide the light you seek

bring us forth those pearls

as you look down here

lead you to this perspective

to be a focus

the silver lining

like it is the very last

places for quiet

do you ever just

may be the wettest or tough

preparing to bloom

just make sure that you

such precious time in this life

and empty of self