Hindsight

February 11, 2008

the perfect sunrise
is hard to hold like tail lights
over the last hill.

(several people on different forums told me to turn the last two lines of the Zen poem into a haiku–well wasn’t that easy–while doing so, it spawned a rash of these to come…)

Morning Lake

trout breaks stillness
starts the ripple pattern to
end on polished rocks.