With one big breath, the wind
swept away all the leaves of autumn
The gnarled roots, visible with red ants crawling.
We were running, chasing each other
after one of us almost drowned in the river
We were testing each other
forgetting heard parental warning:
currents can be swift,
depth can be hard to judge
We thought we are bold
and know more than our age
We were eyeing on toying with the red ants.

That was the day
when “everything smells of hyacinth”
innocence started to fade
We started to learn calligraphy.

each day

what do you want for breakfast?
kiss and goodbye.

a goal and striving.
each day, a task
suffering and failure
define the parallel lines
living is geometry
hypothesis and proof
understanding, then, is a gift
ambition, strong, not enough
a work everyday
a search for vocabulary
like voices of laborers and refugees
what is life at the edges
a search to understand

each day is a task
a rehearsal
for the next day
a sequence
a reachable fluency
a step
to gaze at perfection
“I can’t go on.
I’ll go on.”

you live the challenges
each day, uncertainties
each day, perfection,
each day, an experience to explore
a grain of sand in the universe
with orchids and tears


one sky
twelve hot air balloons,

one road
hundreds of cyclists

waking up late
I miss my breakfast

my eyes roam the sky and road
camera takes notes

the event raises funds
honors soldiers returning from wars

and helps Enchanted Hills
camp for the blind

lives of hundreds silkworms sacrificed
for a single silk scarf

the book is thick and heavy
I will turn the page for you

I will hold the lantern
to provide light for your reading

the verses hide the meaning
changes after every reading

for every creation is unfinished
includes your story and mine

are not all stories end with joy?
the sun blazes and fades

I can offer you bread and goat cheese
may not be a feast

that’s how friendship starts
if one misses breakfast

one receives kindness from a stranger
one single day.



What the page says

Since the big flood
The huge log remained in the river
Like a whale that forgot to breath
A home for fish
A resting place for birds

I read a few pages from a book
I carry during my walk
The page says:
“May love find you when you least expect
Where you least expect.”

I resume my walk
A white heron alight on the log.

note:Books I’m reading: When Breath Becomes air by Paul Kalanithi and
The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak

The need

Fried chicken wings and a glass of beer,
a brown paper bag filled with groceries
commodities consumed daily
walking on the beach doesn’t lessen
the burden of knowing
winter is harsh.

No need to measure the discomfort
while drinking a cup of coffee
some can run away
others can’t escape the summon,
the need to create to survive.