a tender wave wafts

reach with those ancient branches

reaching skyward — up

here, nested circles

silences itself only

while reflecting sky

let yourself be here

of moss, earth, stream, trees, and life

like a point in space

immerse all of you

what this small, precious world needs;

to truly exist

you are a symbol

you have shed for the season

to feel the cloud’s breath

“it’s the hill your on”

smell, taste of being awake

evolve into art

I feel all the strands

I do feel incredibly free

a breath of color

I am condensate

might be — organized — perfect

branches reach, yearning

all tracks in your life

like it is the very last

birds rouse the whole earth

I have a fixed point

you peek over the grapes to

cobbles at high tide

the ease to forget

hummingbird stopped me to talk

and breath in this life

my orchid’s face me

for the hidden forest doors

gather energy

reflections at sea

yellow streaks in my backyard

at the ocean’s edge

little winter bee

homeomorphic tree tops

to feel the cloud’s breath

you chase in the tree

in plucking sprigs of currants

listening to birds

sometimes do you feel

too far ahead of your path

watch me; smile at me

just folding paper

playing in the waves, currents,

an umbellifer

your presence brings joy

moments learning the flowers

that you are given

when I’m dead and gone

droplets, the bubbles in air

sit now before me

sunlight in canyons

are but loops in the garment

to feel the cloud’s breath