Hundreds of thousands
already past spring green
bowing to gold

 

 

in wide sweeping arcs
she brings to willowed valley
snowmelt melodies

Warbler’s seesaw song
In tune with water falling,
Forest rising

 

Prayers sailing from
Weathered barn, like butterflies
Kissing their shadows

 

 

 

Two paths ascending
Leaving wakes in sea of sand
A chance resonance

 

Sounds of skittering
feet follow me down the street
Seeds chased by the wind

There is a miracle here: that human minds and hearts continue to meet in remote rocky ravines, reaching one another across the grand span of thousands of years. Solid legacy.

Prayer corridor
Rivers of rock stitch the land
Ancient outpourings