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
dead low water —
I circumnavigate
my comfort zone
night wind . . .
all around the sound
of not being
in such light
silence develops the taste
of music
Southern Cross—
spring light infilling
a gasp, a moon
before this
I am become
the sacred
hazy moon
hinting of intimacy
shadowed sheets
puff by puff
a dandelion's space-time
continuum
night vision . . .
words like a cancer
gnaw through sleep

a butterfly aflutter the wind within

stone walls do not freefall blossoms sprung

the all the permutations of is-ness

freefalling the blossoms sprung

she who becomes
the apparition 
of her scent

a part across from a godwit's carbon footprint

what is left
after the fall
of shadows
there
yes there
its
the other—
a sanctuary light
fills her eyes
mistreading
a sand wader's
misprint
on a rock
absorbed in a daydream
summer rain
with each gust
a gull alights afresh
on the fence