simple churns of thought

paint the histories of tides

quiet etched in time

why isn’t solstace

the light of the sun and moon

to be swept by wind

that forest fragrance

like folded origami?

covered in passion

precious gems exist

I embraced every moment

pulls you together

you gather yourself

could sum the beats of a life

resonant with us

wake up to a hug

upon a forest by sea

possibilities

the death of my friends

to sit and watch little swifts

in the winter sun

a Fermat spiral

reflect your being in the

on the forest floor

a light of guidance

the dunes of me — parallel

within all of this

my mind ebbs and flows

cohesion yet separate

nodes of our time here

the lenses we have

cedars converge together

make a space for this

the muddy puddles

to the heights that you take wing

serendipity

I saw the blue mass

of little feathers and down

painted in puddles

the swallows are here

forges clouds among the trees

catches the sun’s rays

probability

the air that circles the earth

evolving conchoid

bees bring such a joy

into the streams of the sky

you — your silhouette

parabolic curves

dancing in erratic flight

and talk of the birds

the ease to forget

extensions of my being

they show us the sky

trees dip their big toes

locked within is history

crouched in the garden

“it’s the hill your on”

when the wind whispers to you

silhouette white oak