Ancestral farm

Children sort stones,

Good from evil


Dry Fountain

Old haunt by water

My shadow slips,

Fall to starless night

I’ll walk your footsteps

Steal them for mine.



Early Rains

My shadow the only shade;

I run home to open windows.

A crow laughs over seven lanes

And flies seven streets,

A hand through my hair!- it’s just breeze.

The airs cool when the lane dips,

And soft rain drips glass buttons.