[melancholy]

look closely

there is something holy

in melancholy

[september]

if september was a poet::her name would be sylvia 

 

(http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/sep/05/call-for-sylvia-plath-memorial)

[coming home]

even beings with wings::must land somewhere

[thoughts]

turn your thoughts

into flowers 

featherheart

your words

into precious petals

[peony blooms]

walking

through

the

garden

gate

 

overcome

by 

perfume

of

peonies

[sea oats]

        out 

the glass sea

       oats

[marsh birds]

I hear marsh birds in the sound at low tide

[silence]

2:00 am  silence

the singing bowl

on the bookshelf

[thunder]

the first day of May

I had almost forgotten 

the sound of thunder

[pause]

one dandelion seed pauses in the golden rain tree