I praise in springtime
 
all the things that can’t be tamed:
 
stone, wind, raven’s wing.

 
 

Tell me again, wind,
 
why you’ve placed your loud spring voice
 
on the raven’s wing.

 
 
 

praising in autumn
 
all the things I cannot tame:
 
stone, wind, raven’s wing

 
 
 

Unlighted lantern—
 
a luna moth shrinks its wings
 
to fit the darkness.

 
 
 

Moonlight in my hand
 
weighs less than a fly’s left wing
 
or a spider’s breath.

 
 
 

One brush of your wing
 
satisfies all my longings,
 
yellow butterfly.

 
 
 

Sunday morning rain—
 
the left wing of the blackbird
 
quivers with each drop.

 
 
 

Somewhere in Peru
 
a butterfly shifts one wing—
 
earthquake in L.A.!

Seeking

 
 
 

Blackbird on the wing,
 
seeking shelter for the night,
 
will your flight be long?

Shattered

 
 
 

On a gravel hill
 
a crane with a shattered wing
 
stares into the sun.