brushing her hair

the is


and always

of cherry blossoms


don’t tell me this is

no country for young men…

the wabi sabi

of cherry blossoms

and tanka


he says he heard

the daffodils

whisper my name…

my head held high

I walk in light


because she knows

this day will test my mettle

night walks, a goddess

with the moon

for my shield


you didn’t live

to see me sketch out my dreams

but it’s with the colours

you gave me

that I fill them in



the silver screen

the passing

of another goddess…

first butterfly of spring

(RIP Elizabeth Taylor)


a twig in her beak

a magpie crosses

this vast, blue sky…

I, too, know what it is

to start again from scratch


mother nature

knows in her heart

when the hills

are this quiet

they must be up to something…


by moonset, you’ve gone…

a drop of dew


slips from the tip

of an iris petal


the time of my life…

slipping on wet stones

step by step

the slow descent

holding on to the view


blue sleeved

this first day of spring


with the sun on her back

into the hills


lipstick-smeared blues

at the heart of daybreak

she pulls

another cloud

from a tissue-box sky



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