Tuesday night

wind talking of storms
the rocks sing their ancient songs
clouds cover the sky

Songs of Sunday

echos of drumming
I can still smell the cedar
Sunday reverie

in the lodge

smell of cedar and sage
rocks gathering heat to carry our prayers

painting

color on canvas
magic wands with paint on them
brush strokes from the heart

Grinding

standing at my job
Falls trees sing a song I feel
wild woods calling

thanks you Basho

smell of wet pavement
listening to Tom Wait sing
thinking of Basho

hmm

rain sitting with me
we remember the old times
dancing under trees

looking up

light bending water
eyes looking through my wind screen
the white heart of rain

Kinni

gathering ceder
air whispering in the mist
Rae telling stories

Doctor visits

her steps off rhythm
waiting in anxiety
soft muzak torture