No Agenda
Flowers boom
For no reason other than
Wishing to make a sound
Wind speaks
For no reason other than
Orchestrating some long overdue fun
I take a slow walk through the Spring
For lush is the color of the Season
There is No Agenda in Stillness,
There is No Agenda in Moving.
The Moon
The moon does not Say:
“I am round and white. I Am the moon. I reflect sunlight.”
It is round, white. It reflects sunlight, and it is — the moon.
Looking up to the sky, when dark,
you know it’s there.
Your skin’s lamination, declares,
an
irrefutable—Existence.
Is the moon ever shy about shining, or not shining?
I wondered.
As I breathe soundly in my sleep.
A Haiku
The flame flickers here
Sound travels far and apart
I sit and listen