Hopes do not grow on trees
Hopes grow on you and me
like blossoms that need
nurturing- - - -
...
Let me be a drop of water
sitting on the edge of a green leaf
complete in itself- -
well-rounded, transparent
...
The skirt she wore is black
with large pink spots
The pink left its dark country
...
The Rose that swayed
in cool breezes
and wantoned with birds
and butterflies
...
I cut my finger while sharpening the pencil.
I must sharpen it.
They sharpen their daggers and swords
to spill unknown blood.
...
Death sanctifies everything.
Eyes are washed by
hot unshed tears
Hearts are wrung with grief
...
Morning breezes
come stealthily
awakening sleeping buds to a new life
scattering fragrance
...
I pluck flowers from the spring-laden
branches
and put them one by one in my
basket
...
You are the river.
I dip my fingers in the rushing water
and know it is not the same river
as Heraclitus had said.
...