Blue ambient earth converges
at the tip of blue ribbons.
A square glass frame cradles
live mountains and firm pine cones
behind us.
Inside Log Haven, I see
blue worlds reside in your eyes.
Outside, Milcreek Canyon climbs the sky.
Of pigtails and careless rhythm -
I am wordless.
Craning nape extends into snow-lines.
With blue ribbons I gently pack
shards of poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem