Bricolage

At dawn Kate’s face glows

with soft light from a new sun:

beauty embodied.

Skiing through the woods

heavy thoughts are forgotten;

my spirit is free.

Skiing through the woods

heavy thoughts are forgotten;

my spirit is free.

Delicate blossoms

color high windblown ridges—

Kate among wildflow’rs.

Delicate blossoms

color high windblown ridges—

wildflowers in spring.

Green and delightful

they’re a treat hard to resist:

ah, pistachios.

Flitting on the rocks

with a loud descending call

the canyon wren sings.

Withdrawing life’s joy

it thrives on swollen tonsils,

candidiasis.

Encompassing her,

I feel my love’s sunny warmth,

beloved forever.

We claim this high peak

for use and enjoyment of

lovable puppies.

She sleeps in beauty,

her body entwined with mine—

my only beloved.

Rio Chama flows

coursing through canyons and plains,

not knowing the sea.

Clouds form when wind dies.

A prick on the skin, an itch.

Oh no! mosquitoes!

How I hurt my love

with an ill-considered word.

How I weep today.

There was a young bear called Baby

Who was the cutest bear in the world—maybe

But he has a big brother,

So there might be another.

There was a young bear called Baby.

My love

brings spring

with its balmy air

to the piñon desert

of our high plateau.

Her radiance

shines

brighter

than         the       glow

of         green      buds

and     new     color

adorning life

throughout

the

land:

nature’s sweetest flower.

The gnarled juniper

sits among slabs of sandstone

soaking up the sun.

Freezing and thawing,

the extremes of cold and heat

form arches from cliffs.

The waves of sandstone

so relentlessly weathered

break into arches.

Taoist distractions

are cluttering up my mind

with thoughts of nothing.

Kate paints the landscape

making the view beautiful

with her eye so sweet.

Encircling

the            sky

with            rock

are sandstone arches.

The light of the sun

drenches the body in sweat

and burns tender skin.

Thunderbirds perching

on boughs of a withered oak

look out for dinner.

Something’s happening—

we can’t say exactly what—

but it’s exciting.

Towering granite

shadows an alpine valley

bringing dusk early.

Bruises and blisters,

shoes too tight, too much walking,

my toes are all trashed.

Two lovers are like

a lupine and a paintbrush—

roots and stems entwined.

The winter is hard:

nothing blooms in barren ground—

such lifeless bleakness.

Ice from Olympus

rushes through the rainforest

bound for the breakers.

Ferns and epiphytes

shroud ancient Sitka cedar

and western hemlock.

Thinking of my Kate

and her enduring sweetness

brings smiles to my face.

I wish you were here:

shared delights are a pleasure.

It’s more fun with you.

Follow the wallow,

but don’t slip in the hollow—

more mud’s on the trail.

Besides clear water

red cedars and green mosses

frame white Olympus.

Three roses for Kate:

beauty and intelligence

and loving-kindness.