Fishing

a man 

sits on a bank

dangling a line

over a gentle stream

the line dances

in morning light

a fish is pulled in

lying by his side

someone will eat

well tonight

Four

I

me

my

limited

compass

of

the pretentious

Swan In The Stream

swan

in 

the 

stream

becomes

two

in

one

The Road

if the road is willing

and the way

not too hard

we may meet

at the end 

of the beginning

and start again

A Boat

a boat glides low on water

without making a sound

or leaving a trace

of where it has been

or where it is going

Tactile

you want to

reach out

touch it

clutch it

caress it

possess it

relish each moment

as an ecstatic interlude

woven into the tapestry

of the evolving hours

unfolding in 

linear array

before light and warmth

find refuge in

shadow and shade

On Edge

suspended 

on edge

astride interstices

spanning a web

woven by the master

of disguise

to ensnare

the unaware

by the guise

of surprise

ever vigilant

and aware 

of what

invades his lair

dangling midair

Purpose

if life
fulfills its purpose
it is to know
and remember
what shaped its form
out of all
that came and went
and has remained
within

Red Umbrella

two figures emerge
shrouded in misty haze
strolling the boulevard
huddled as one
entwined in the embrace
of gossamer dreams
drifting beneath the canopy
of a red umbrella
dissolving as silhouettes
into the gray timbre
of late afternoon
with secrets only they can share
suspended in transcendent moments
echoing in footfalls
on a sodden satin way
unfolding before them

Small Matter

no matter
how long
it seems

it's only hard
for a
little while