flower bed
an army of ants
one by one by one hundred
...
dawn approaches
dew on grass blades
the night cries
...
beauty in the night
hidden in the day-
moonflower
...
Central Park
the skeletal remains
barren trees
...
On my throne I reflect on the day
My mind relaxed as stress drifts away
In my hand I hold my pen
Think what to write, and then I begin
...
you’ll long for the time
as patiently as the moon
for heaven to touch
...