23 March 2013
sonnet 11
Some thin and wind-blown drops slash down the pane
And carve Etruscan letters in the frost -
no, mist now; minutes earlier, our plane's
High-altitude Siberian crystals lost
Consistency in Lombardy's low clouds.
The barren fields still grey, the trees still dead
We'd left a world of cherry blossoms, crowds
Of trees lined up along Narita's edge.
Twelve hours' flight, but we've gone back in time
To just before the blossoming of spring.
I'm dazed by sleeplessness, my mind
On seasons of my own; their passing stings.
Spring bloom's long past since last I saw Milan.
And many summer years have come and gone.
And carve Etruscan letters in the frost -
no, mist now; minutes earlier, our plane's
High-altitude Siberian crystals lost
Consistency in Lombardy's low clouds.
The barren fields still grey, the trees still dead
We'd left a world of cherry blossoms, crowds
Of trees lined up along Narita's edge.
Twelve hours' flight, but we've gone back in time
To just before the blossoming of spring.
I'm dazed by sleeplessness, my mind
On seasons of my own; their passing stings.
Spring bloom's long past since last I saw Milan.
And many summer years have come and gone.
17 March 2013
16 March 2013
15 March 2013
sonnet 10
My eyes unfocused after reading. Dazed,
I wander through the park, sit on the pier
A fine spring day, strong wind, the sun's ablaze
The waves are lapping, boats bright white, sky clear.
Uncertain what to think of the past week -
A turning point, one where the seasons changed
Is that all there was to it? Are the peaks
And valleys of my mood just weathervanes?
Mixed metaphors aside, some things did shift
These past few days, like waking from a dream
A subtle thing - felt calmer, less adrift
And maybe even swimming back upstream.
Did weather change my mood to light from dark?
Perhaps I'll sit a while more in this park.
I wander through the park, sit on the pier
A fine spring day, strong wind, the sun's ablaze
The waves are lapping, boats bright white, sky clear.
Uncertain what to think of the past week -
A turning point, one where the seasons changed
Is that all there was to it? Are the peaks
And valleys of my mood just weathervanes?
Mixed metaphors aside, some things did shift
These past few days, like waking from a dream
A subtle thing - felt calmer, less adrift
And maybe even swimming back upstream.
Did weather change my mood to light from dark?
Perhaps I'll sit a while more in this park.
haiku 14
Fountain spray. Sunlight.
So changed since last month's snowstorm.
I feel weightless, blessed.
So changed since last month's snowstorm.
I feel weightless, blessed.
04 March 2013
sonnet 9
The week had come unraveled, toward the end.
Tossed in my sleep, with unease at my heart
A walk would help my soured thoughts to mend
So - Kamakura, semi-early start.
Frustration on the way - a train was late
And people walked so slowly on the road
Yet once we passed Kenchoji temple gate
And climbed to Hansobo, I felt the load
Of every ill thought lifted. Wind and sun,
And clutching roots and weathered stone and moss,
Bamboo and silent idols, every one
Sat calm, enduring, patient through all loss.
Two hours worth years of boredom. On those trails
Free as the hawks, or ships with wind-filled sails.
Tossed in my sleep, with unease at my heart
A walk would help my soured thoughts to mend
So - Kamakura, semi-early start.
Frustration on the way - a train was late
And people walked so slowly on the road
Yet once we passed Kenchoji temple gate
And climbed to Hansobo, I felt the load
Of every ill thought lifted. Wind and sun,
And clutching roots and weathered stone and moss,
Bamboo and silent idols, every one
Sat calm, enduring, patient through all loss.
Two hours worth years of boredom. On those trails
Free as the hawks, or ships with wind-filled sails.
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