Kite string

Kite string
lightening sun
leading the way
the winds have come
by the cracked window with freshly washed hair
I see the yard, mother, clearing the clothes line
leafy faces, on well water
out over the fields and flower beds
spring rain on the harvest
dripping down
planet dusk
small talk
after droplet burials
in the flowing stream

Pebble Moon

 Mayan ruins
The snails
They color the stone
Back and forth.
 Sounds like breeze
Under one umbrella
Trailing lights
On a mountain path.