Some more poems

Multi-colored leaves

brown and swirl to waiting earth.

Next autumn begins.

   *   *   *

Today, sick at home

I read, drink tea and write this.

Desires rise and die.

   *   *   *

Wind (whoosh!) thru the pines,

ahead a mountain stream

gurgles around slippery snow-capped rocks.

Ecstatic in new snowshoes

I stumble along this white unknown trail.

   *   *   *

Streets alive!

dazzling neon reflections

in puddles and gutter runoff.

Once more

I must see Chinatown

at magic hour in winter rain.

   *   *   *

Waves of wet traffic

rise from the asphalt ocean

seven floors below.

   *   *   *

A brief blast of taxi horns

chases away errant thought.

For an instant

I sit empty–

filled with the sound

of the world.

   *   *   *

Forsaking the highway

for roads with names,

the journey becomes

our destination.

How sad when it ends.

Yet how good to arrive.

   *   *   *

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Published in: on January 28, 2007 at 7:55 pm  Leave a Comment  
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