bitter tea

i rose before daylight
waited patiently with hot
cup of jasmine tea in hands
then finally the first golden
gingko leaf tumbled down
onto damp mossy flagstone
my autumn is here as
bitter tea hits my palate

11.11.11

it's not a crusade
save a couple beads
don't think it's new

don't think it's sacred
or with this red cross
i'll come for you too

as i came for myself
finding bloodied fingers

seeds

sleepy eyes and wandering fingers
teddy cat i my face when i wake

but her scent is still on our pillow
smile, inhale a sweet experience

a season may past, maybe a snow
in this clime, spring flowers are seeded

settings

i wake tangled in delicate strands of amber and honey
her sweetness and warmth are still on the linen
her marks are on my clothes like cat signs, "taken"

i only set out one coffee set but just for now
i have to pinch the third growth on tomato vines
she is not there sleepily in the morning sun at seven

in this interstitial i'll have to adjust portions for one
until later moons give tide to new harvests
then i'll have to wash dishes for two settings again

wheels

early in the morning
as i stretch my neck
round and round

lives of last nights' dreams
play in the forebrain
as a thousand tangled wheels

matin

Low sun cool air
Contrasts with memory
of her warm skin
While I stare at singing train tracks

racing

the mind races with coming dawn
soft bands of pale violet and periwinkle
ribbons of what will be washed ochre
chases shadows at tops of still tree tops