*
I am a drawing compass
one feet pointed the soft
one bent on a dance to
go from here to there to
close the circles to jump
out to run free today
.

*
I am a drawing compass
one feet pointed the soft
one bent on a dance to
go from here to there to
close the circles to jump
out to run free today
.
*
the rainstorm last night
came
and left us exhausted
.
the morning rose
stretching
brighter than ever
.
every greenery
greener
thriving to new
.
.
*
how thick
is my gaze
laying upon
an object
.
but what
lightness
have my eyes
laid on nature
.
*
let me repeat every day
the same act of devotion
the same gesture of starting
a poem to pick from the air
your words and to line them
up on paper let me infinitely
.
*
I unfold my dreams
wet from the tiresome
night and their secret
coding drilling me
under the light of day
spread out line after line
.
*
it’s the stall that
makes me nervous
the space between
branches that
.
makes me breath
.
the silent wake up
calls before the
birds sing that
has me pray
.
*
it takes one silence
to enter another
silence to draw words
out of poetry
in that quite spot in us
.
.
*
winter hides the green
away
no complementary
colors
even at sunsets
winter
hides but those tiny
flowers
that makes me break
into a smile
.
here and there I smile
some
light out of me shines
.
*
I am sweetly stuck
with poetry
that runs around me
.
*
I stand still
writing
among the bare
woods
.
I stand here
observing
my eyes filled
with beauty
.
the sounds of
ducks in between
the church bells
sharp in the air
.
move my tears to
cover my cheeks
such emotional
life will last
.
in nature we live
we are born
again and again
let’s not forget
.
*
take me tight in
embrace me wholly
let me be still as
serenity enters me
.
a coat of light
a small breeze leads
me to shiver
upon a gentle smile
.
.
*
a winter wind
shakes the trees
below but not
the terse blue sky
unmovable
.
a prize after days
of foggy times
the brightness
scorches briefly
everything
.
*
pensive hazel eyes
flickering around
the night where
.
perfumes sail to
the clouds away
.
from the cracking
tiny sound of bare foot
on sleepy grass
.
.
This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02 Click on the title or the link to get your own copy.
https://amzn.eu/d/4Q2sSdH Super Holidays Sale!
*
the struggle to live
that has taken place
within me these past months
is disturbing the deeper
silence I was used to
.
*
to read
to listen
to write
.
three steps
.
to be
to live
to die
.
.