No vocabulary

No vocabulary
Or language can express
This fullness of blossoms
The lack of emptiness

Exposure to sunlight
Bountiful, bleached and bright
No shadows or darkness
With wide width and high height

Most birds are not soaring

Most birds are not soaring
No need for altitude
High above the treetops
There is no multitude

Here I am on the ground
When given wings to fly
Choosing not to ascend
But questioning the why

From the World Trade Centers

From the World Trade Centers
Up to Central Park West
We walk through Manhattan
Without taking a rest

Through quiet TriBeCa
Then Soho and the Arch
The flatiron pointing
And so northward we march

A horizontal sleep

A horizontal sleep
On a hillside where sheep
Would find the landscape steep
Together there we laid

Beneath a sky blue dome
No urgency to roam
From this place we call home
And the life that we made

And now ten becomes nine

And now ten becomes nine
The unraveling twine
Standing here next in line
As generations purge

Only March to July
How fast our seasons fly
Echoes of lullaby
Are the bars of a dirge

What does it matter if

What does it matter if
There's one less drop of rain
It makes no difference
To the cloud or terrain

The flowers would notice
If all the rain should stop
But would not bow their heads
For just a missing drop

My wings are wide open

My wings are wide open
Colors basking beneath
An afternoon sun that's
A crowning laurel wreath

Achievement has been made
The pinnacle, the cap
One last look at the view
Before wings start to flap