Archives: Poem Gallery

a transient moon
the well waters lay darkly
in stillness.

well water
our town-folk’s habit
of dropping a stone.

hearing the night
sousing with winter
in the downpipes.

temple Buddha
yet I think if most stirs me
is the lake’s silent mist.

if well waters
shimmer
curved by the moon’s pull?

darkening winds
the summer canola
everywhere unzipped

scent on the wind
in the honeysuckles
my summer’s doze.

in our frying pan
the trout’s rainbow
melts into butter