YELLOW MOON

YELLOW MOON

Half-lidded eye of slumber,

Far-spying on the dream,

Late, silence-rising world,

The yellow-rising moon

Now silhouettes a single,

Broad, distant skyline tree.

From misty, midnight east,

It ventures on the vastness,

Where stars in hazy number

Are summer-patterned on the sky.

What beauty's stolen by the eye:

What artistry of wide creation

Our casual vision takes for free.

What brush could brave

This scene's perfection?

This subtle luminosity?

Mysterious and deep is sleep...

But ah!

What miracle it is

To see.

THIS WINTER SKY

THIS WINTER SKY

This winter sky's half-gray with cloud-

The midday air still cool. Small rain

Lies scattered on the leaves of grasses

And magpies stalk through damp, green fields.

A crow calls into air-wide spaces

And distant is the slow reply

And cows graze on a far-off hill
And seem to seeing ant-like small.

Now drizzle rides upon light wind

And washes detail from the tree-dense skyline

And brings to sight a winter vision-

Where things far-off are misty-dim.

We watch and time is passing still:

A pathway to a cloud-bound view,

Where detail vanishes in mist

And all we sense... we hope is true.