moonlit lake —
the doppler effect
of black swans
bee loud tree
plum blossoms aquiver
with becoming
twilight hush . . .
shadows lengthen
earth scent

above the shadow crushed under 

under fresh green leaves
my daughter shadow fingers
with the play of light
vine stock
spring enters me
through scars
at the window
deciphering the code
of spring rain
a poet
awaiting song
doodles eggs
first quarter . . .
the light tonight
lukewarm too
coalsack . . .
shadows well up
to the cross