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colors gathered trance . . .
above, a sun-white gray wash
autumn solitude

quietly we sit
sustained by the early sounds . . .
we know this won’t last

my rat race reveals,
morning, wearing winter sky . . .
a moment too soon

into the slow breath
and all the words disappear . . .
along with their worlds

bright, and silver blue
the moonlight, wispy in thought . . .
floats on cirrus clouds

lightning thunderclaps
as we sit having coffee . . .
counting the seconds

tonight, like many . . .
in dark firmament, I seek
a crescent goddess

my answer

to answer the first
and to answer the second . . .
my answer would be

through the humid night
crickets chirp and half-moon shines . . .
their sharp and fuzzy

ornate swallowtail
her wings black with shiny blue . . .
finds her nectar blooms

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