Untitled Gunsaku
Untitled poem Something
about hummingbirds
passing for haiku
Sits in a notebook
Pondered but then rejected
Not enough spirit
Is this poetry
A sad echo of nature
with no fulfillment
Scratch out start over
Find the clarity of truth
Or why even try
Metallic feathers
Stop on a spinning dime edge
Then rocket away
One single sun beam
Shines through a hole in the clouds
poked by tiny bird
Run to where it shone
Face turned to where sun should be
Thick blanket of clouds
I can smell the rain
Green mud on patches of breeze
Squeezed from between grays
Fate blended with choice
Always good enough not great
Willow only sighs
What is this stillness
Not even decent darkness
Foggy almost art
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