Room in the World

What a joy to sit with the mountains,
Extra tall and crisp in suits of snow,
Cloud capes draping their shoulders,
Softening their stance into certain indigo.

Mountains, do you ever wish...
To glance at us, from a distance?
Through curtains and windows?
To have your space all alone?

You appear so remote, self-sufficient,
Unchangeable forever, or so we assume.
But you are constantly giving us
your room in the world.

Clocks: Ticking TIme

From January 5th

Clocks: ticking time
To the city lights, flickering.
Windows: reflecting the doors
That we pass through.
Beds: studios for dreams
To unfurl like smoke.
Sighs: signifying the good work
We know we did today.
Hope: when the heart still longs
To find a way.