A morning fog flows
Shy maples begin to blush
the hues of sunsets
Tender fingers lattice straw
Burning husks; ash to heaven
A morning fog flows
Shy maples begin to blush
the hues of sunsets
Tender fingers lattice straw
Burning husks; ash to heaven
Quaked cracks web along
Forgotten serpentine roads
Reaching for heaven
Incensed by cedar
Lusty crickets ring eve’s bell
And fete in cool leaves
greened peaks now marble
as a dust dours golden leaves
Fūjin exhales
old roots radiate
the heat blooms the frost to dew
still leaves, golden, loose
Between concrete walls
Hums and haws of spinning blades
Rustle dry pages
A creaking chair cuts the air
Contorting sleeping faces
Tears of jade she bears
Drops drift towards southern mountains
Pink petals long lost
Heavy stems bow low
The shade they make grows smaller
Their green weeps to brown
Fretting hands wither and pray
‘Tis just the sun going down
Between concrete walls
Hums and haws of spinning blades
Rustle dry pages
A creaking chair cuts the air
Contorting sleeping faces
The June sun lightens
Mountains obscured by the haze
Silhouettes peak through
The weight of warm, sticky air
And salted beads kiss bent backs