(for Jimi)
At Lands End
Oncidium’s
shriveled bulb cries out
….and what can I do with
deepest yellow?
Stone gully underfoot
a rough pass;
a funghi sighting.
Return of
the giant cormorant
peeling off as it circumnavigates
over dancing little winds
across
the big
wide
dam.
A flying bird brings the message….
new born babe,
cumulus stirs,
gathers,
collects
a long white fog
now gone.
Dreading birth
as much as death
belonging nowhere
‘I could have gone to the mountain’