Lone cloud
Flies its own pace
Giant manta ray.
Lone cloud
Flies its own pace
Giant manta ray.
Lady Bug
Holds fast a leaf,
Surfs the wind.
On cold, windy, stormy nights,
Windows thump, rattle and beat,
The rain so quickly passed,
Like thuds of a human hearts.
Too rare are my visits here
Where the city’s still
And every surge and pulse
of cloud and air you hear.
Feel free in your impulse
Where only birds trill.
Listening
To the rythm
Of bird calls.
Red and green when bearing fruit
Yellow during the flowing season
Many wild guests on that hill
And in my memory always the same.
On the old banyan
Are bats still waiting
For a waning moon
And the insect buzz
Around street lights
To consume the night.
In the night beyond the walls
where we labor unceasing
with our echoes of meaning,
far beyond the empty urban sprawl
further than even the stars
and yet close to the humming cars-
an unperturbed quiet.