Frog

old frog

kicks up his heels

new puddle

Peace

wizened old woman

sucking an overripe plum

plucked from a dumpster

My leaky rowboat

will never hold all the stars

I prised from the sky.

buckets and shovels

rusting in hidden places

workers gone missing

how slamming the door

in a beggar’s hopeful face

sparks howls of outrage

Why do panhandlers

keep muttering life’s secrets

up and down the streets?

He thought the Punjab

would give him wife and children—

taunting temple bell.

mumbling to himself

old poet’s conversation

takes a baleful turn

My Lady Wisdom,

did I hear you calling me,

or was that the wind?

old poet dreaming

of how they coupled freely

the first days of spring