AUTUMN MORNING

this is a slight variation of poem AUTUMN MIST...from WWP ...only using three words from the wordle in red


AUTUMN MORNING

every morning I awake to the ravens chant
as the ochre leaves fall over the garden
plants braided by forget-me-nots and tears
summertime now sleeping inside the pods
old roots hide as they feel the snow coming
orange poppies skirt the wind before dying
half-eaten garlic falls to my hands
I rise to the autumn morning

DALAI LAMA AT CITY LIGHTS

using some of the words from the wordle (in red)

DALAI LAMA AT CITY LIGHTS

a summer night in North Beach

where street cars dance to the beat

of jazz notes blown

sitting at a table at City Lights

with Kerouac and other misfits

drinking towards another stream of consciousness

baked on silk pie and pineapple wine

approaching silence with reckless abandon

reading dry salvages with blemished views

puzzled by his deep shadow of silence

confident moments of his nothingness

and relentless expression of beauty

wondering what brought him to this place

we listen to the poetry of his smile

in our rowdy silence