The Death of Bees

itness now the death of buzzing bees,
the bloodbath human and the brood’s disease–
witnessed upon the earth, in wild and wood,

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The Changing of the Leaves

Fall is a dream.
It comes the east,
where people dare not dwell,

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Flower – Short Poem

Flower,
perfect pearl blue.

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A Morning Hike

Under the figs
I woke to fog and dew,
white oaks, and mist

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I’m Going Back

Going back now, I see the stand of pines,
the mountain climbing out of green to white
caps enshrouded in clouds and flanked by snow.

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