Walking backwards

I like to walk backwards
like dancing tango without a partner
my toes on the threshold of the past
my heel on the door of the present
the imbalance feels auckward and untidy
makes me falls backward into the future
my thoughts entangled, confused.
The teacher looks at my notebook full of doodles
she smiles and shakes her head
I always forget to bring an eraser
A girl points to me my mistakes
We become friends and adventurers,
thinking we can fix broken things ourselves
We laugh at our perils
Like you and me, now, at forty five.

The differences


Hearing knocking on the door is different from knocking on the window

Knocking on the mind is different from knocking on the heart

Woodpecker pecks trees, finch cracks nuts

Stones shine differently in the river, birds sing different songs

Daffodils from the countryside adorned tables

Spring equinox arrived yesterday.


Foray in the forest to forage
for mushrooms after the rain
I may pass the hermit’s shelter
partially hidden in the circle of trees
Nobody has seen him
he seems to be invisible
The birds know where he lives
in his imperceptible presence.

If I see him I want to ask him
how he listens to silence,
to voice of solitude
Are they silent thoughts?

The hermit laughs
like a mountain brook
lively and clear.
He is bald and has a white beard.
He smiles like your best friend.