Li Po and Me

We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.  Li Po circa 760 A.D.


In the moonlight, we sat in silence
together, sipping summer alone
except for shadow selves
that crept beside our every move.

He would not talk to me,
…just said he told his secrets
only to the drunk
or those mad with moonlight.

I sat there musing
as plum blossoms
fell like feathers
through the air.

My shadow,
in unison with me,
raised it’s head
to watch them.

Li Po
kept quaffing wine,
a moon beam tangled
in his gray goatee,

I reached my hand
to touch it;
he told me all his secrets.
I must have been mad.


Evening’s Accord

In the stillness of the mountains
a fading sunset
slips from the horizon

A round moon nods in passing
as it rises to settle at its post
above the peaks

Even the breeze has hushed its sighing
Oak and elm share a branch-tip touch
their shadows dancing in the twilight

A million stars shine in the heavens
in tribute to the sleeping sun
The struggles for this day are done

To Dust


Summer breeze rippling patterns
in the mind, soft with scent
of roses twining over old fence posts,
fallen sentinels, still grand with moss-
covered memories. The pointed barbs
of yesterday’s sharp wire
long past doing harm.
What once was boundary, mingles
now with purple vetch and milkweed.
The wire, curled and coiled, a remnant
of its used to be, a decaying swirl
of rust. As all things in the universe,
from dust to dust.