Sunday, April 1, 2012

Being Jeanne

Wind teases wind chimes,
Tousled hair, and juniper trees,
Here am I, licking raspberry sorbet,
Off a reflective silver spoon,

A simple speck under azure noon.
Light plays the hammock strings,
White rope woven with shadow.
A butterfly passes by garden patch.

In this quiet swinging space,
What things are worth thinking?

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