Sweet blackberries and burning woods in the fireplace
Are the last words in my journal
My backpack is beaten up and old
I’m in a new town
When is farmer’s market?
Which I have to find
I will meet the local people
Meld with their activities
I have to find someone soon
To fix the holes in my pockets
Before I’m flooded with losses
Which may not be able to count
I’m afraid I will be overwhelmed
But I will not be helpless.
May be the path has more leaves now
Than when we passed by the day before
Your mind is somewhere else since your friend left
You are not paying attention.
But you still return to the river to fish.
It’s 5 below zero
I do not expect you to stay
Jazz is playing
where are the warm places you ask
The fireplace is roaring
We are talking of former travels
The wine will come to add warmth
You remember that you once loved me
And forgiven me
The summit has changed
Artists may like the different landscape
We send each other new stories
and celebrate the day of our breakup.
twelve hot air balloons,
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.
There times a week
they hike a circular trail in the forest
that begins and ends at the cabin.
repetitions darken the blood, sustain
the vigor, heighten familiarity-
junction where to view the lake,
where the creek crosses, where
the trail descends, the third rise
where they pick the freshest acorn
for the hearth., the bend where they pause
Their houses are eight hours apart.
One gardens and likes okra,
the other a journal-writing devotee,
ideas bounce between their minds.
Last September, a fall
disrupted the circle.
Today they forgot the key
they sat on the bench, waited
for their wives.
During certain moments of clarity
friendship looks similar to writing
a “stubborn self-discipline”
writing simple descriptions
“ a pond, a stone, tools”
to repair a chair
and being together,
Writing is never precise
misplaced punctuations, dangling
words with no meaning,
forgetting to return calls.
Have to go she says
“she breaks off abruptly”
“little drawings of twisted trees”.
Both can fall over a bridge.
note: quoted words are from the book, The Story of a New Name, by Elena Ferrante.
I’m a waterfall
as small or as big
as your mind
Birds stop by
to hear my song.
Ferns grow nearby
fronds dance with glee.
Will you wish
rain for me
to keep me flowing?
come with the sun
I’ll shower you with crystals.
Don’t run away
to dry your face,
laugh with me
I’ll be your friend
photo: Japanese Garden, Butchart Gardens, Victoria,B.C., Canada