Tying Sea to Stone
The stone feet of the island rest in the sea, their grass skins glistening at low tide. The winds have calmed after yesterday’s storm, stillness
October 29, 2017
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The stone feet of the island rest in the sea, their grass skins glistening at low tide. The winds have calmed after yesterday’s storm, stillness
There’s always more to do, the world wanting your attention, hurry now before the circus leaves town. All that you are not quite enough with
Ripe and full the harvest moon rises casting tree shadows from their tops lifted to the star wheel. No loneliness or garish glare, just silver
Grey water and light wind, the distant call of a gull. The weight of these times with me as I settle into the silence once
He turns to rise with the sun at the far edge of the world, no temple or towering buddha, just the lonely sound of garbage