The Dove is Silent

In morning
the dove is silent
as the breeze
sweeps
old ideas
now exposed
to the light of day
with the veil of night
lifted
and my eyes
see
for the first time
what my imagination
already
knew.

One Hand Claps

Once a drop in the sea
until  the sun rose
to the radiance
of Easter day
then a quick farewell 
whisked away 
and now a cloud 
as one hand claps
in silence.

Easter Time

He was here
then was gone
in more than a poof
rabbits still hop
in the early morning
dewy grass
and hens cackle
when smooth eggs
are forgotten and
left for children
to gather
after those who knew
first dye the shells
with colors of
soft rainbows
and think thoughts
of long ago
with new ideas
of spring gardens
seed packets
now empty 
and in dark earth
are but summer dreams
of a fiery red tomato
that I bite 
and taste
juicy ripe
sweet life
seedy with a touch
of remembered love
on a hot
august day.

Without a Trace

They no longer read books
long ago 
they used them
as bricks
to build their shelters
and those still stood
although the dwellers
had disappeared
without a trace
as to who they were
yet the brick ruins
held inside
the complete history
of all those that
lived before 
books 
became 
bricks.

I read the iPad oh boy

Staring at  photon glow
my brain connects
with how many I do not know
thoughts unravel
visions of lizards 
seaside walks
a cranky old desert solitary
a long ago paperback 
distant conversations 
Fiji water in plastic bottles
hula girls and swaying palms
then a crow lands in a far north land
a saint-named wanderer 
and jello-like brains 
sizzle and spark
and today I read the iPad oh boy
the Holy Grail of neuroscience 
is consciousness
a trillion synaptic connections
sizzle this morning
as I sip
Japanese 
green tea.

Peter and the Rooster

A rooster crows
with memories of
oh so long ago
three times he did 
cock-a-doodle-do!
and now recalls 
hidden sobs
oh so strange
a greeting to
the breaking of 
what seemed
just 
another day.