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.