photo: Sometimes, despite the glorious winter day, the inner life can’t soak up the unmistakable beauty of the light in Nelson.
In the silence of the frosty morning/
The sun is good news that/
Fails to lift the shadows/
lingering like ink blots on/
my forgotten secrets while/
frozen grains of dust flying everywhere at each of my steps/
make the fragments of my memory dance.
on vacation days
the sun hits you on the head
under the straw hat
that hour of the morning
when the possibilities are parading
in the waves of awakening
and the wrinkles in the coffee
sometimes superhuman
at some other times, fragile
before fading in the sun
or hanging around in town
*posted in October 2021, edited in 2022
finally the sun
the very first day of spring
is in the puddle
that hour of the morning
when the possibilities are parading
in the waves of awakening
and the coffee wrinkles
sometimes superhuman
at some other times, fragile
they fade in the sun
but hang around in town