Saturday, October 31, 2009

Wind Singing in the Cedars

Wind singing

in the cedars

tosses a cloud

up the Sound,

bluer than baby

skies swept clean,

space hidden

behind light.

Wind singing

in the cedars,

time keeps

my pulse.

I spy Buddha

in the bushes,

breathe deep

and become,

wind singing

in the cedars.

No comments:

Post a Comment