I am content to know/ The protecting embrace of a maple/ Shielding me/ From harsh January winds/


A Sated Soul

Were I born with paws,/ would my footsteps move less earth?/ Were I covered in fur,/ would cotton stay bound to its burrs?/

A Sated Soul2016-10-18T14:21:11+00:00

Tortula Ruralis

Each pellucid drop glides down the awns/ and nestles between the verdant folds./ The small green leaves and drop embrace,/ To uncurl with the morning dew./

Tortula Ruralis2016-10-18T14:21:16+00:00

Their Grasses, Their Reasons

Dawn breaks along with/ the farmer’s spirit./ He rises/ just to kneel down in prayer./

Their Grasses, Their Reasons2016-10-18T14:21:16+00:00