weaseling in
on a mountain of hot pink—
white snowcaps
Popping up in anyone’s bed wherever they please, it’s cool how mushrooms don’t follow the rules,
1813. the tango
step, turn, stretch, turn,
lifting arms, ruffling feathers—
the tango
Life is magical. Over by the golf course at the edge of a little pond, I turned to see the tango of two great herons—one white, one blue—dancing to their own music in the soft light of late afternoon.
1812. cinnamon sky
cinnamon sky
a solitary bird soars high
singing for the moon
The moon is always where it is, in the sky up high, let me sing a little song.
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