brushing her hair

the is

was

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

~

beyond

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

pollen-stained

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

wandering

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

~